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very good rai... now could you tell me what shape a computer monitor has?

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Or we will make you into playdough

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I'm still kicking....

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*consumes jewsus*

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The world was silent and then the smell was immense

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I'm the wolf, yeah!
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The Dream Quest
of Unknown Kadath

Three times Randolph Carter dreamed of the marvelous city, and three times was he snatched away while still he paused on the high terrace above it. All golden and lovely it blazed in the sunset, with walls, temples, colonnades and arched bridges of veined marble, silver-basined fountains of prismatic spray in broad squares and perfumed gardens, and wide streets marching between delicate trees and blossom-laden urns and ivory statues in gleaming rows; while on steep northward slopes climbed tiers of red roofs and old peaked gables harbouring little lanes of grassy cobbles. It was a fever of the gods, a fanfare of supernal trumpets and a clash of immortal cymbals. Mystery hung about it as clouds about a fabulous unvisited mountain; and as Carter stood breathless and expectant on that balustraded parapet there swept up to him the poignancy and suspense of almost-vanished memory, the pain of lost things and the maddening need to place again what once had been an awesome and momentous place.

He knew that for him its meaning must once have been supreme; though in what cycle or incarnation he had known it, or whether in dream or in waking, he could not tell. Vaguely it called up glimpses of a far forgotten first youth, when wonder and pleasure lay in all the mystery of days, and dawn and dusk alike strode forth prophetic to the eager sound of lutes and song, unclosing fiery gates toward further and surprising marvels. But each night as he stood on that high marble terrace with the curious urns and carven rail and looked off over that hushed sunset city of beauty and unearthly immanence he felt the bondage of dream's tyrannous gods; for in no wise could he leave that lofty spot, or descend the wide marmoreal fights flung endlessly down to where those streets of elder witchery lay outspread and beckoning.

When for the third time he awakened with those flights still undescended and those hushed sunset streets still untraversed, he prayed long and earnestly to the hidden gods of dream that brood capricious above the clouds on unknown Kadath, in the cold waste where no man treads. But the gods made no answer and shewed no relenting, nor did they give any favouring sign when he prayed to them in dream, and invoked them sacrificially through the bearded priests of Nasht and Kaman-Thah, whose cavern-temple with its pillar of flame lies not far from the gates of the waking world. It seemed, however, that his prayers must have been adversely heard, for after even the first of them he ceased wholly to behold the marvellous city; as if his three glimpses from afar had been mere accidents or oversights, and against some hidden plan or wish of the gods.

At length, sick with longing for those glittering sunset streets and cryptical hill lanes among ancient tiled roofs, nor able sleeping or waking to drive them from his mind, Carter resolved to go with bold entreaty whither no man had gone before, and dare the icy deserts through the dark to where unknown Kadath, veiled in cloud and crowned with unimagined stars, holds secret and nocturnal the onyx castle of the Great Ones.

In light slumber he descended the seventy steps to the cavern of flame and talked of this design to the bearded priests Nasht and Kaman-Thah. And the priests shook their pshent-bearing heads and vowed it would be the death of his soul. They pointed out that the Great Ones had shown already their wish, and that it is not agreeable to them to be harassed by insistent pleas. They reminded him, too, that not only had no man ever been to Kadath, but no man had ever suspected in what part of space it may lie; whether it be in the dreamlands around our own world, or in those surrounding some unguessed companion of Fomalhaut or Aldebaran. If in our dreamland, it might conceivably be reached, but only three human souls since time began had ever crossed and recrossed the black impious gulfs to other dreamlands, and of that three, two had come back quite mad. There were, in such voyages, incalculable local dangers; as well as that shocking final peril which gibbers unmentionably outside the ordered universe, where no dreams reach; that last amorphous blight of nethermost confusion which blasphemes and bubbles at the centre of all infinity - the boundless daemon sultan Azathoth, whose name no lips dare speak aloud, and who gnaws hungrily in inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond time amidst the muffled, maddening beating of vile drums and the thin, monotonous whine of accursed flutes; to which detestable pounding and piping dance slowly, awkwardly, and absurdly the gigantic Ultimate gods, the blind, voiceless, tenebrous, mindless Other gods whose soul and messenger is the crawling chaos Nyarlathotep.

Of these things was Carter warned by the priests Nasht and Kaman-Thah in the cavern of flame, but still he resolved to find the gods on unknown Kadath in the cold waste, wherever that might be, and to win from them the sight and remembrance and shelter of the marvellous sunset city. He knew that his journey would be strange and long, and that the Great Ones would be against it; but being old in the land of dream he counted on many useful memories and devices to aid him. So asking a formal blessing of the priests and thinking shrewdly on his course, he boldly descended the seven hundred steps to the Gate of Deeper Slumber and set out through the Enchanted Wood.

In the tunnels of that twisted wood, whose low prodigious oaks twine groping boughs and shine dim with the phosphorescence of strange fungi, dwell the furtive and secretive Zoogs; who know many obscure secrets of the dream world and a few of the waking world, since the wood at two places touches the lands of men, though it would be disastrous to say where. Certain unexplained rumours, events, and vanishments occur among men where the Zoogs have access, and it is well that they cannot travel far outside the world of dreams. But over the nearer parts of the dream world they pass freely, flitting small and brown and unseen and bearing back piquant tales to beguile the hours around their hearths in the forest they love. Most of them live in burrows, but some inhabit the trunks of the great trees; and although they live mostly on fungi it is muttered that they have also a slight taste for meat, either physical or spiritual, for certainly many dreamers have entered that wood who have not come out. Carter, however, had no fear; for he was an old dreamer and had learnt their fluttering language and made many a treaty with them; having found through their help the splendid city of Celephais in Ooth-Nargai beyond the Tanarian Hills, where reigns half the year the great King Kuranes, a man he had known by another name in life. Kuranes was the one soul who had been to the star-gulls and returned free from madness.

Threading now the low phosphorescent aisles between those gigantic trunks, Carter made fluttering sounds in the manner of the Zoogs, and listened now and then for responses. He remembered one particular village of the creatures was in the centre of the wood, where a circle of great mossy stones in what was once a cleaning tells of older and more terrible dwellers long forgotten, and toward this spot he hastened. He traced his way by the grotesque fungi, which always seem better nourished as one approaches the dread circle where elder beings danced and sacrificed. Finally the great light of those thicker fungi revealed a sinister green and grey vastness pushing up through the roof of the forest and out of sight. This was the nearest of the great ring of stones, and Carter knew he was close to the Zoog village. Renewing his fluttering sound, he waited patiently; and was at last rewarded by an impression of many eyes watching him. It was the Zoogs, for one sees their weird eyes long before one can discern their small, slippery brown outlines.

Out they swarmed, from hidden burrow and honeycombed tree, till the whole dim-litten region was alive with them. Some of the wilder ones brushed Carter unpleasantly, and one even nipped loathsomely at his ear; but these lawless spirits were soon restrained by their elders. The Council of Sages, recognizing the visitor, offered a gourd of fermented sap from a haunted tree unlike the others, which had grown from a seed dropt down by someone on the moon; and as Carter drank it ceremoniously a very strange colloquy began. The Zoogs did not, unfortunately, know where the peak of Kadath lies, nor could they even say whether the cold waste is in our dream world or in another. Rumours of the Great Ones came equally from all points; and one might only say that they were likelier to be seen on high mountain peaks than in valleys, since on such peaks they dance reminiscently when the moon is above and the clouds beneath.

Then one very ancient Zoog recalled a thing unheard-of by the others; and said that in Ulthar, beyond the River Skai, there still lingered the last copy of those inconceivably old Pnakotic Manuscripts made by waking men in forgotten boreal kingdoms and borne into the land of dreams when the hairy cannibal Gnophkehs overcame many-templed Olathoe and slew all the heroes of the land of Lomar. Those manuscripts he said, told much of the gods, and besides, in Ulthar there were men who had seen the signs of the gods, and even one old priest who had scaled a great mountain to behold them dancing by moonlight. He had failed, though his companion had succeeded and perished namelessly.

So Randolph Carter thanked the Zoogs, who fluttered amicably and gave him another gourd of moon-tree wine to take with him, and set out through the phosphorescent wood for the other side, where the rushing Skai flows down from the slopes of Lerion, and Hatheg and Nir and Ulthar dot the plain. Behind him, furtive and unseen, crept several of the curious Zoogs; for they wished to learn what might befall him, and bear back the legend to their people. The vast oaks grew thicker as he pushed on beyond the village, and he looked sharply for a certain spot where they would thin somewhat, standing quite dead or dying among the unnaturally dense fungi and the rotting mould and mushy logs of their fallen brothers. There he would turn sharply aside, for at that spot a mighty slab of stone rests on the forest floor; and those who have dared approach it say that it bears an iron ring three feet wide. Remembering the archaic circle of great mossy rocks, and what it was possibly set up for, the Zoogs do not pause near that expansive slab with its huge ring; for they realise that all which is forgotten need not necessarily be dead, and they would not like to see the slab rise slowly and deliberately.

Carter detoured at the proper place, and heard behind him the frightened fluttering of some of the more timid Zoogs. He had known they would follow him, so he was not disturbed; for one grows accustomed to the anomalies of these prying creatures. It was twilight when he came to the edge of the wood, and the strengthening glow told him it was the twilight of morning. Over fertile plains rolling down to the Skai he saw the smoke of cottage chimneys, and on every hand were the hedges and ploughed fields and thatched roofs of a peaceful land. Once he stopped at a farmhouse well for a cup of water, and all the dogs barked affrightedly at the inconspicuous Zoogs that crept through the grass behind. At another house, where people were stirring, he asked questions about the gods, and whether they danced often upon Lerion; but the farmer and his wile would only make the Elder Sign and tell him the way to Nir and Ulthar.

At noon he walked through the one broad high street of Nir, which he had once visited and which marked his farthest former travels in this direction; and soon afterward he came to the great stone bridge across the Skai, into whose central piece the masons had sealed a living human sacrifice when they built it thirteen-hundred years before. Once on the other side, the frequent presence of cats (who all arched their backs at the trailing Zoogs) revealed the near neighborhood of Ulthar; for in Ulthar, according to an ancient and significant law, no man may kill a cat. Very pleasant were the suburbs of Ulthar, with their little green cottages and neatly fenced farms; and still pleasanter was the quaint town itself, with its old peaked roofs and overhanging upper stories and numberless chimney-pots and narrow hill streets where one can see old cobbles whenever the graceful cats afford space enough. Carter, the cats being somewhat dispersed by the half-seen Zoogs, picked his way directly to the modest Temple of the Elder Ones where the priests and old records were said to be; and once within that venerable circular tower of ivied stone - which crowns Ulthar's highest hill - he sought out the patriarch Atal, who had been up the forbidden peak Hatheg-Kia in the stony desert and had come down again alive.

Atal, seated on an ivory dais in a festooned shrine at the top of the temple, was fully three centuries old; but still very keen of mind and memory. From him Carter learned many things about the gods, but mainly that they are indeed only Earth's gods, ruling feebly our own dreamland and having no power or habitation elsewhere. They might, Atal said, heed a man's prayer if in good humour; but one must not think of climbing to their onyx stronghold atop Kadath in the cold waste. It was lucky that no man knew where Kadath towers, for the fruits of ascending it would be very grave. Atal's companion Banni the Wise had been drawn screaming into the sky for climbing merely the known peak of Hatheg-Kia. With unknown Kadath, if ever found, matters would be much worse; for although Earth's gods may sometimes be surpassed by a wise mortal, they are protected by the Other Gods from Outside, whom it is better not to discuss. At least twice in the world's history the Other Gods set their seal upon Earth's primal granite; once in antediluvian times, as guessed from a drawing in those parts of the Pnakotic Manuscripts too ancient to be read, and once on Hatheg-Kia when Barzai the Wise tried to see Earth's gods dancing by moonlight. So, Atal said, it would be much better to let all gods alone except in tactful prayers.

Carter, though disappointed by Atal's discouraging advice and by the meagre help to be found in the Pnakotic Manuscripts and the Seven Cryptical Books of Hsan, did not wholly despair. First he questioned the old priest about that marvellous sunset city seen from the railed terrace, thinking that perhaps he might find it without the gods' aid; but Atal could tell him nothing. Probably, Atal said, the place belonged to his especial dream world and not to the general land of vision that many know; and conceivably it might be on another planet. In that case Earth's gods could not guide him if they would. But this was not likely, since the stopping of the dreams shewed pretty clearly that it was something the Great Ones wished to hide from him.

Then Carter did a wicked thing, offering his guileless host so many draughts of the moon-wine which the Zoogs had given him that the old man became irresponsibly talkative. Robbed of his reserve, poor Atal babbled freely of forbidden things; telling of a great image reported by travellers as carved on the solid rock of the mountain Ngranek, on the isle of Oriab in the Southern Sea, and hinting that it may be a likeness which Earth's gods once wrought of their own features in the days when they danced by moonlight on that mountain. And he hiccoughed likewise that the features of that image are very strange, so that one might easily recognize them, and that they are sure signs of the authentic race of the gods.

Now the use of all this in finding the gods became at once apparent to Carter. It is known that in disguise the younger among the Great Ones often espouse the daughters of men, so that around the borders of the cold waste wherein stands Kadath the peasants must all bear their blood. This being so, the way to find that waste must be to see the stone face on Ngranek and mark the features; then, having noted them with care, to search for such features among living men. Where they are plainest and thickest, there must the gods dwell nearest; and whatever stony waste lies back of the villages in that place must be that wherein stands Kadath.

Much of the Great Ones might be learnt in such regions, and those with their blood might inherit little memories very useful to a seeker. They might not know their parentage, for the gods so dislike to be known among men that none can be found who has seen their faces wittingly; a thing which Carter realized even as he sought to scale Kadath. But they would have queer lofty thoughts misunderstood by their fellows, and would sing of far places and gardens so unlike any known even in the dreamland that common folk would call them fools; and from all this one could perhaps learn old secrets of Kadath, or gain hints of the marvellous sunset city which the gods held secret. And more, one might in certain cases seize some well-loved child of a god as hostage; or even capture some young god himself, disguised and dwelling amongst men with a comely peasant maiden as his bride.

Atal, however, did not know how to find Ngranek on its isle of Oriab; and recommended that Carter follow the singing Skai under its bridges down to the Southern Sea; where no burgess of Ulthar has ever been, but whence the merchants come in boats or with long caravans of mules and two-wheeled carts. There is a great city there, Dylath-Leen, but in Ulthar its reputation is bad because of the black three-banked galleys that sail to it with rubies from no clearly named shore. The traders that come from those galleys to deal with the jewellers are human, or nearly so, but the rowers are never beheld; and it is not thought wholesome in Ulthar that merchants should trade with black ships from unknown places whose rowers cannot be exhibited.

By the time he had given this information Atal was very drowsy, and Carter laid him gently on a couch of inlaid ebony and gathered his long beard decorously on his chest. As he turned to go, he observed that no suppressed fluttering followed him, and wondered why the Zoogs had become so lax in their curious pursuit. Then he noticed all the sleek complacent cats of Ulthar licking their chops with unusual gusto, and recalled the spitting and caterwauling he had faintly heard, in lower parts of the temple while absorbed in the old priest's conversation. He recalled, too, the evilly hungry way in which an especially impudent young Zoog had regarded a small black kitten in the cobbled street outside. And because he loved nothing on earth more than small black kittens, he stooped and petted the sleek cats of Ulthar as they licked their chops, and did not mourn because those inquisitive Zoogs would escort him no farther.

It was sunset now, so Carter stopped at an ancient inn on a steep little street overlooking the lower town. And as he went out on the balcony of his room and gazed down at the sea of red tiled roofs and cobbled ways and the pleasant fields beyond, all mellow and magical in the slanted light, he swore that Ulthar would be a very likely place to dwell in always, were not the memory of a greater sunset city ever goading one onward toward unknown perils. Then twilight fell, and the pink walls of the plastered gables turned violet and mystic, and little yellow lights floated up one by one from old lattice windows. And sweet bells pealed in. the temple tower above, and the first star winked softly above the meadows across the Skai. With the night came song, and Carter nodded as the lutanists praised ancient days from beyond the filigreed balconies and tesselated courts of simple Ulthar. And there might have been sweetness even in the voices of Ulthar's many cats, but that they were mostly heavy and silent from strange feasting. Some of them stole off to those cryptical realms which are known only to cats and which villagers say are on the moon's dark side, whither the cats leap from tall housetops, but one small black kitten crept upstairs and sprang in Carter's lap to purr and play, and curled up near his feet when he lay down at last on the little couch whose pillows were stuffed with fragrant, drowsy herbs.

In the morning Carter joined a caravan of merchants bound for Dylath-Leen with the spun wool of Ulthar and the cabbages of Ulthar's busy farms. And for six days they rode with tinkling bells on the smooth road beside the Skai; stopping some nights at the inns of little quaint fishing towns, and on other nights camping under the stars while snatches of boatmen's songs came from the placid river. The country was very beautiful, with green hedges and groves and picturesque peaked cottages and octagonal windmills.

On the seventh day a blur of smoke rose on the horizon ahead, and then the tall black towers of Dylath-Leen, which is built mostly of basalt. Dylath-Leen with its thin angular towers looks in the distance like a bit of the Giant's Causeway, and its streets are dark and uninviting. There are many dismal sea-taverns near the myriad wharves, and all the town is thronged with the strange seamen of every land on earth and of a few which are said to be not on earth. Carter questioned the oddly robed men of that city about the peak of Ngranek on the isle of Oriab, and found that they knew of it well.

Ships came from Baharna on that island, one being due to return thither in only a month, and Ngranek is but two days' zebra-ride from that port. But few had seen the stone face of the god, because it is on a very difficult side of Ngranek, which overlooks only sheer crags and a valley of sinister lava. Once the gods were angered with men on that side, and spoke of the matter to the Other Gods.

It was hard to get this information from the traders and sailors in Dylath-Leen's sea taverns, because they mostly preferred to whisper of the black galleys. One of them was due in a week with rubies from its unknown shore, and the townsfolk dreaded to see it dock. The mouths of the men who came from it to trade were too wide, and the way their turbans were humped up in two points above their foreheads was in especially bad taste. And their shoes were the shortest and queerest ever seen in the Six Kingdoms. But worst of all was the matter of the unseen rowers. Those three banks of oars moved too briskly and accurately and vigorously to be comfortable, and it was not right for a ship to stay in port for weeks while the merchants traded, yet to give no glimpse of its crew. It was not fair to the tavern-keepers of Dylath-Leen, or to the grocers and butchers, either; for not a scrap of provisions was ever sent aboard. The merchants took only gold and stout black slaves from Parg across the river. That was all they ever took, those unpleasantly featured merchants and their unseen rowers; never anything from the butchers and grocers, but only gold and the fat black men of Parg whom they bought by the pound. And the odours from those galleys which the south wind blew in from the wharves are not to be described. Only by constantly smoking strong thagweed could even the hardiest denizen of the old sea-taverns bear them. Dylath-Leen would never have tolerated the black galleys had such rubies been obtainable elsewhere, but no mine in all Barth's dreamland was known to produce their like.

Of these things Dylath-Leen's cosmopolitan folk chiefly gossiped whilst Carter waited patiently for the ship from Baharna, which might bear him to the isle whereon carven Ngranek towers lofty and barren. Meanwhile he did not fall to seek through the haunts of far travellers for any tales they might have concerning Kadath in the cold waste or a marvellous city of marble walls and silver fountains seen below terraces in the sunset. Of these things, however, he learned nothing; though he once thought that a certain old slant-eyed merchant looked queerly intelligent when the cold waste was spoken of. This man was reputed to trade with the horrible stone villages on the icy desert plateau of Leng, which no healthy folk visit and whose evil fires are seen at night from afar. He was even rumoured to have dealt with that High-Priest Not To Be Described, which wears a yellow silken mask over its face and dwells all alone in a prehistoric stone monastery. That such a person might well have had nibbling traffick with such beings as may conceivably dwell in the cold waste was not to be doubted, but Carter soon found that it was no use questioning him.

Then the black galley slipped into the harbour past the basalt wale and the tall lighthouse, silent and alien, and with a strange stench that the south wind drove into the town. Uneasiness rustled through the taverns along that waterfront, and after a while the dark wide-mouthed merchants with humped turbans and short feet clumped steathily ashore to seek the bazaars of the jewellers. Carter observed them closely, and disliked them more the longer he looked at them. Then he saw them drive the stout black men of Parg up the gangplank grunting and sweating into that singular galley, and wondered in what lands - or if in any lands at all - those fat pathetic creatures might be destined to serve.

And on the third evening of that galley's stay one of the uncomfortable merchants spoke to him, smirking sinfully and hinting of what he had heard in the taverns of Carter's quest. He appeared to have knowledge too secret for public telling; and although the sound of his voice was unbearably hateful, Carter felt that the lore of so far a traveller must not be overlooked. He bade him therefore be his guest in locked chambers above, and drew out the last of the Zoogs' moon-wine to loosen his tongue. The strange merchant drank heavily, but smirked unchanged by the draught. Then he drew forth a curious bottle with wine of his own, and Carter saw that the bottle was a single hollowed ruby, grotesquely carved in patterns too fabulous to be comprehended. He offered his wine to his host, and though Carter took only the least sip, he felt the dizziness of space and the fever of unimagined jungles. All the while the guest had been smiling more and more broadly, and as Carter slipped into blankness the last thing he saw was that dark odious face convulsed with evil laughter and something quite unspeakable where one of the two frontal puffs of that orange turban had become disarranged with the shakings of that epileptic mirth.

Carter next had consciousness amidst horrible odours beneath a tent-like awning on the deck of a ship, with the marvellous coasts of the Southern Sea flying by in unnatural swiftness. He was not chained, but three of the dark sardonic merchants stood grinning nearby, and the sight of those humps in their turbans made him almost as faint as did the stench that filtered up through the sinister hatches. He saw slip past him the glorious lands and cities of which a fellow-dreamer of earth - a lighthouse-keeper in ancient Kingsport - had often discoursed in the old days, and recognized the templed terraces of Zak, abode of forgotten dreams; the spires of infamous Thalarion, that daemon-city of a thousand wonders where the eidolon Lathi reigns; the charnel gardens of Zura, land of pleasures unattained, and the twin headlands of crystal, meeting above in a resplendent arch, which guard the harbour of Sona-Nyl, blessed land of fancy.

Past all these gorgeous lands the malodourous ship flew unwholesomely, urged by the abnormal strokes of those unseen rowers below. And before the day was done Carter saw that the steersman could have no other goal than the Basalt Pillars of the West, beyond which simple folk say splendid Cathuria lies, but which wise dreamers well know are the gates of a monstrous cataract wherein the oceans of earth's dreamland drop wholly to abysmal nothingness and shoot through the empty spaces toward other worlds and other stars and the awful voids outside the ordered universe where the daemon sultan Azathoth gnaws hungrily in chaos amid pounding and piping and the hellish dancing of the Other Gods, blind, voiceless, tenebrous, and mindless, with their soul and messenger Nyarlathotep.

Meanwhile the three sardonic merchants would give no word of their intent, though Carter well knew that they must be leagued with those who wished to hold him from his quest. It is understood in the land of dream that the Other Gods have many agents moving among men; and all these agents, whether wholly human or slightly less than human, are eager to work the will of those blind and mindless things in return for the favour of their hideous soul and messenger, the crawling chaos Nyarlathotep. So Carter inferred that the merchants of the humped turbans, hearing of his daring search for the Great Ones in their castle of Kadath, had decided to take him away and deliver him to Nyarlathotep for whatever nameless bounty might be offered for such a prize. What might be the land of those merchants in our known universe or in the eldritch spaces outside, Carter could not guess; nor could he imagine at what hellish trysting-place they would meet the crawling chaos to give him up and claim their reward. He knew, however, that no beings as nearly human as these would dare approach the ultimate nighted throne of the daemon Azathoth in the formless central void.

At the set of sun the merchants licked their excessively wide lips and glared hungrily and one of them went below and returned from some hidden and offensive cabin with a pot and basket of plates. Then they squatted close together beneath the awning and ate the smoking meat that was passed around. But when they gave Carter a portion, he found something very terrible in the size and shape of it; so that he turned even paler than before and cast that portion into the sea when no eye was on him. And again he thought of those unseen rowers beneath, and of the suspicious nourishment from which their far too mechanical strength was derived.

It was dark when the galley passed betwixt the Basalt Pillars of the West and the sound of the ultimate cataract swelled portentous from ahead. And the spray of that cataract rose to obscure the stars, and the deck grew damp, and the vessel reeled in the surging current of the brink. Then with a queer whistle and plunge the leap was taken, and Carter felt the terrors of nightmare as earth fell away and the great boat shot silent and comet-like into planetary space. Never before had he known what shapeless black things lurk and caper and flounder all through the aether, leering and grinning at such voyagers as may pass, and sometimes feeling about with slimy paws when some moving object excites their curiosity. These are the nameless larvae of the Other Gods, and like them are blind and without mind, and possessed of singular hungers and thirsts.

But that offensive galley did not aim as far as Carter had feared, for he soon saw that the helmsman was steering a course directly for the moon. The moon was a crescent shining larger and larger as they approached it, and shewing its singular craters and peaks uncomfortably. The ship made for the edge, and it soon became clear that its destination was that secret and mysterious side which is always turned away from earth, and which no fully human person, save perhaps the dreamer Snireth-Ko, has ever beheld. The close aspect of the moon as the galley drew near proved very disturbing to Carter, and he did not like the size and shape of the ruins which crumbled here and there. The dead temples on the mountains were so placed that they could have glorified no suitable or wholesome gods, and in the symmetries of the broken columns there seemed to be some dark and inner meaning which did not invite solution. And what the structure and proportions of the olden worshippers could have been, Carter steadily refused to conjecture.

When the ship rounded the edge, and sailed over those lands unseen by man, there appeared in the queer landscape certain signs of life, and Carter saw many low, broad, round cottages in fields of grotesque whitish fungi. He noticed that these cottages had no windows, and thought that their shape suggested the huts of Esquimaux. Then he glimpsed the oily waves of a sluggish sea, and knew that the voyage was once more to be by water - or at least through some liquid. The galley struck the surface with a peculiar sound, and the odd elastic way the waves received it was very perplexing to Carter.

They now slid along at great speed, once passing and hailing another galley of kindred form, but generally seeing nothing but that curious sea and a sky that was black and star-strewn even though the sun shone scorchingly in it.

There presently rose ahead the jagged hills of a leprous-looking coast, and Carter saw the thick unpleasant grey towers of a city. The way they leaned and bent, the manner in which they were clustered, and the fact that they had no windows at all, was very disturbing to the prisoner; and he bitterly mourned the folly which had made him sip the curious wine of that merchant with the humped turban. As the coast drew nearer, and the hideous stench of that city grew stronger, he saw upon the jagged hills many forests, some of whose trees he recognized as akin to that solitary moon-tree in the enchanted wood of earth, from whose sap the small brown Zoogs ferment their curious wine.

Carter could now distinguish moving figures on the noisome wharves ahead, and the better he saw them the worse he began to fear and detest them. For they were not men at all, or even approximately men, but great greyish-white slippery things which could expand and contract at will, and whose principal shape - though it often changed - was that of a sort of toad without any eyes, but with a curious vibrating mass of short pink tentacles on the end of its blunt, vague snout. These objects were waddling busily about the wharves, moving bales and crates and boxes with preternatural strength, and now and then hopping on or off some anchored galley with long oars in their forepaws. And now and then one would appear driving a herd of clumping slaves, which indeed were approximate human beings with wide mouths like those merchants who traded in Dylath-Leen; only these herds, being without turbans or shoes or clothing, did not seem so very human after all. Some of the slaves - the fatter ones, whom a sort of overseer would pinch experimentally - were unloaded from ships and nailed in crates which workers pushed into the low warehouses or loaded on great lumbering vans.

Once a van was hitched and driven off, and the, fabulous thing which drew it was such that Carter gasped, even after having seen the other monstrosities of that hateful place. Now and then a small herd of slaves dressed and turbaned like the dark merchants would be driven aboard a galley, followed by a great crew of the slippery toad-things as officers, navigators, and rowers. And Carter saw that the almost-human creatures were reserved for the more ignominious kinds of servitude which required no strength, such as steering and cooking, fetching and carrying, and bargaining with men on the earth or other planets where they traded. These creatures must have been convenient on earth, for they were truly not unlike men when dressed and carefully shod and turbaned, and could haggle in the shops of men without embarrassment or curious explanations. But most of them, unless lean or ill-favoured, were unclothed and packed in crates and drawn off in lumbering lorries by fabulous things. Occasionally other beings were unloaded and crated; some very like these semi-humans, some not so similar, and some not similar at all. And he wondered if any of the poor stout black men of Parg were left to be unloaded and crated and shipped inland in those obnoxious drays.

When the galley landed at a greasy-looking quay of spongy rock a nightmare horde of toad-things wiggled out of the hatches, and two of them seized Carter and dragged him ashore. The smell and aspect of that city are beyond telling, and Carter held only scattered images of the tiled streets and black doorways and endless precipices of grey vertical walls without windows. At length he was dragged within a low doorway and made to climb infinite steps in pitch blackness. It was, apparently, all one to the toad-things whether it were light or dark. The odour of the place was intolerable, and when Carter was locked into a chamber and left alone he scarcely had strength to crawl around and ascertain its form and dimensions. It was circular, and about twenty feet across.

From then on time ceased to exist. At intervals food was pushed in, but Carter would not touch it. What his fate would be, he did not know; but he felt that he was held for the coming of that frightful soul and messenger of infinity's Other Gods, the crawling chaos Nyarlathotep. Finally, after an unguessed span of hours or days, the great stone door swung wide again, and Carter was shoved down the stairs and out into the red-litten streets of that fearsome city. It was night on the moon, and all through the town were stationed slaves bearing torches.

In a detestable square a sort of procession was formed; ten of the toad-things and twenty-four almost human torch-bearers, eleven on either side, and one each before and behind. Carter was placed in the middle of the line; five toad-things ahead and five behind, and one almost-human torch-bearer on either side of him. Certain of the toad-things produced disgustingly carven flutes of ivory and made loathsome sounds. To that hellish piping the column advanced out of the tiled streets and into nighted plains of obscene fungi, soon commencing to climb one of the lower and more gradual hills that lay behind the city. That on some frightful slope or blasphemous plateau the crawling chaos waited, Carter could not doubt; and he wished that the suspense might soon be over. The whining of those impious flutes was shocking, and he would have given worlds for some even half-normal sound; but these toad-things had no voices, and the slaves did not talk.

Then through that star-specked darkness there did come a normal sound. It rolled from the higher hills, and from all the jagged peaks around it was caught up and echoed in a swelling pandaemoniac chorus. It was the midnight yell of the cat, and Carter knew at last that the old village folk were right when they made low guesses about the cryptical realms which are known only to cats, and to which the elders among cats repair by stealth nocturnally, springing from high housetops. Verily, it is to the moon's dark side that they go to leap and gambol on the hills and converse with ancient shadows, and here amidst that column of foetid things Carter heard their homely, friendly cry, and thought of the steep roofs and warm hearths and little lighted windows of home.

Now much of the speech of cats was known to Randolph Carter, and in this far terrible place he uttered the cry that was suitable. But that he need not have done, for even as his lips opened he heard the chorus wax and draw nearer, and saw swift shadows against the stars as small graceful shapes leaped from hill to hill in gathering legions. The call of the clan had been given, and before the foul procession had time even to be frightened a cloud of smothering fur and a phalanx of murderous claws were tidally and tempestuously upon it. The flutes stopped, and there were shrieks in the night. Dying almost-humans screamed, and cats spit and yowled and roared, but the toad-things made never a sound as their stinking green ichor oozed fatally upon that porous earth with the obscene fungi.

It was a stupendous sight while the torches lasted, and Carter had never before seen so many cats. Black, grey, and white; yellow, tiger, and mixed; common, Persian, and Marix; Thibetan, Angora, and Egyptian; all were there in the fury of battle, and there hovered over them some trace of that profound and inviolate sanctity which made their goddess great in the temples of Bubastis. They would leap seven strong at the throat of an almost-human or the pink tentacled snout of a toad-thing and drag it down savagely to the fungous plain, where myriads of their fellows would surge over it and into it with the frenzied claws and teeth of a divine battle-fury. Carter had seized a torch from a stricken slave, but was soon overborne by the surging waves of his loyal defenders. Then he lay in the utter blackness hearing the clangour of war and the shouts of the victors, and feeling the soft paws of his friends as they rushed to and fro over him in the fray.

At last awe and exhaustion closed his eyes, and when he opened them again it was upon a strange scene. The great shining disc of the earth, thirteen times greater than that of the moon as we see it, had risen with floods of weird light over the lunar landscape; and across all those leagues of wild plateau and ragged crest there squatted one endless sea of cats in orderly array. Circle on circle they reached, and two or three leaders out of the ranks were licking his face and purring to him consolingly. Of the dead slaves and toad-things there were not many signs, but Carter thought he saw one bone a little way off in the open space between him and the warriors.

Carter now spoke with the leaders in the soft language of cats, and learned that his ancient friendship with the species was well known and often spoken of in the places where cats congregate. He had not been unmarked in Ulthar when he passed through, and the sleek old cats had remembered how he patted them after they had attended to the hungry Zoogs who looked evilly at a small black kitten. And they recalled, too, how he had welcomed the very little kitten who came to see him at the inn, and how he had given it a saucer of rich cream in the morning before he left. The grandfather of that very little kitten was the leader of the army now assembled, for he had seen the evil procession from a far hill and recognized the prisoner as a sworn friend of his kind on earth and in the land of dream.

A yowl now came from the farther peak, and the old leader paused abruptly in his conversation. It was one of the army's outposts, stationed on the highest of the mountains to watch the one foe which Earth's cats fear; the very large and peculiar cats from Saturn, who for some reason have not been oblivious of the charm of our moon's dark side. They are leagued by treaty with the evil toad-things, and are notoriously hostile to our earthly cats; so that at this juncture a meeting would have been a somewhat grave matter.

After a brief consultation of generals, the cats rose and assumed a closer formation, crowding protectingly around Carter and preparing to take the great leap through space back to the housetops of our earth and its dreamland. The old field-marshal advised Carter to let himself be borne along smoothly and passively in the massed ranks of furry leapers, and told him how to spring when the rest sprang and land gracefully when the rest landed. He also offered to deposit him in any spot he desired, and Carter decided on the city of Dylath-Leen whence the black galley had set out; for he wished to sail thence for Oriab and the carven crest Ngranek, and also to warn the people of the city to have no more traffick with black galleys, if indeed that traffick could be tactfully and judiciously broken off. Then, upon a signal, the cats all leaped gracefully with their friend packed securely in their midst; while in a black cave on an unhallowed summit of the moon-mountains still vainly waited the crawling chaos Nyarlathotep.

The leap of the cats through space was very swift; and being surrounded by his companions Carter did not see this time the great black shapelessnesses that lurk and caper and flounder in the abyss. Before he fully realised what had happened he was back in his familiar room at the inn at Dylath-Leen, and the stealthy, friendly cats were pouring out of the window in streams. The old leader from Ulthar was the last to leave, and as Carter shook his paw he said he would be able to get home by cockcrow. When dawn came, Carter went downstairs and learned that a week had elapsed since his capture and leaving. There was still nearly a fortnight to wait for the ship bound toward Oriab, and during that time he said what he could against the black galleys and their infamous ways. Most of the townsfolk believed him; yet so fond were the jewellers of great rubies that none would wholly promise to cease trafficking with the wide-mouthed merchants. If aught of evil ever befalls Dylath-Leen through such traffick, it will not be his fault.

In about a week the desiderate ship put in by the black wale and tall lighthouse, and Carter was glad to see that she was a barque of wholesome men, with painted sides and yellow lateen sails and a grey captain in silken robes. Her cargo was the fragrant resin of Oriab's inner groves, and the delicate pottery baked by the artists of Bahama, and the strange little figures carved from Ngranek's ancient lava. For this they were paid in the wool of Ulthar and the iridescent textiles of Hatheg and the ivory that the black men carve across the river in Parg. Carter made arrangements with the captain to go to Baharna and was told that the voyage would take ten days. And during his week of waiting he talked much with that captain of Ngranek, and was told that very few had seen the carven face thereon; but that most travellers are content to learn its legends from old people and lava-gatherers and image-makers in Baharna and afterward say in their far homes that they have indeed beheld it. The captain was not even sure that any person now living had beheld that carven face, for the wrong side of Ngranek is very difficult and barren and sinister, and there are rumours of caves near the peak wherein dwell the night-gaunts. But the captain did not wish to say just what a night-gaunt might be like, since such cattle are known to haunt most persistently the dreams of those who think too often of them. Then Carter asked that captain about unknown Kadath in the cold waste, and the marvellous sunset city, but of these the good man could truly tell nothing.

Carter sailed out of Dylath-Leen one early morning when the tide turned, and saw the first rays of sunrise on the thin angular towers of that dismal basalt town. And for two days they sailed eastward in sight of green coasts, and saw often the pleasant fishing towns that climbed up steeply with their red roofs and chimney-pots from old dreaming wharves and beaches where nets lay drying. But on the third day they turned sharply south where the roll of water was stronger, and soon passed from sight of any land. On the fifth day the sailors were nervous, but the captain apologized for their fears, saying that the ship was about to pass over the weedy walls and broken columns of a sunken city too old for memory, and that when the water was clear one could see so many moving shadows in that deep place that simple folk disliked it. He admitted, moreover, that many ships had been lost in that part of the sea; having been hailed when quite close to it, but never seen again.

That night the moon was very bright, and one could see a great way down in the water. There was so little wind that the ship could not move much, and the ocean was very calm. Looking over the rail Carter saw many fathoms deep the dome of the great temple, and in front of it an avenue of unnatural sphinxes leading to what was once a public square. Dolphins sported merrily in and out of the ruins, and porpoises revelled clumsily here and there, sometimes coming to the surface and leaping clear out of the sea. As the ship drifted on a little the floor of the ocean rose in hills, and one could clearly mark the lines of ancient climbing streets and the washed-down walls of myriad little houses.

Then the suburbs appeared, and finally a great lone building on a hill, of simpler architecture than the other structures, and in much better repair. It was dark and low and covered four sides of a square, with a tower at each corner, a paved court in the centre, and small curious round windows all over it. Probably it was of basalt, though weeds draped the greater part; and such was its lonely and impressive place on that far hill that it may have been a temple or a monastery. Some phosphorescent fish inside it gave the small round windows an aspect of shining, and Carter did not blame the sailors much for their fears. Then by the watery moonlight he noticed an odd high monolith in the middle of that central court, and saw that something was tied to it. And when after getting a telescope from the captain's cabin he saw that that bound thing was a sailor in the silk robes of Oriab, head downward and without any eyes, he was glad that a rising breeze soon took the ship ahead to more healthy parts of the sea.

The next day they spoke with a ship with violet sails bound for Zar, in the land of forgotten dreams, with bulbs of strange coloured lilies for cargo. And on the evening of the eleventh day they came in sight of the isle of Oriab with Ngranek rising jagged and snow-crowned in the distance. Oriab is a very great isle, and its port of Bahama a mighty city. The wharves of Bahama are of porphyry, and the city rises in great stone terraces behind them, having streets of steps that are frequently arched over by buildings and the bridges between buildings. There is a great canal which goes under the whole city in a tunnel with granite gates and leads to the inland lake of Yath, on whose farther shore are the vast clay-brick ruins of a primal city whose name is not remembered. As the ship drew into the harbour at evening the twin beacons Thon and Thal gleamed a welcome, and in all the million windows of Bahama's terraces mellow lights peeped out quietly and gradually as the stars peep out overhead in the dusk, till that steep and climbing seaport became a glittering constellation hung between the stars of heaven and the reflections of those stars in the still harbour.

The captain, after landing, made Carter a guest in his own small house on the shores of Yath where the rear of the town slopes down to it; and his wife and servants brought strange toothsome foods for the traveller's delight. And in the days after that Carter asked for rumours and legends of Ngranek in all the taverns and public places where lava-gatherers and image-makers meet, but could find no one who had been up the higher slopes or seen the carven face. Ngranek was a hard mountain with only an accursed valley behind it, and besides, one could never depend on the certainty that night-gaunts are altogether fabulous.

When the captain sailed hack to Dylath-Leen Carter took quarters in an ancient tavern opening on an alley of steps in the original part of the town, which is built of brick and resembles the ruins of Yath's farther shore. Here he laid his plans for the ascent of Ngranek, and correlated all that he had learned from the lava-gatherers about the roads thither. The keeper of the tavern was a very old man, and had heard so many legends that he was a great help. He even took Carter to an upper room in that ancient house and shewed him a crude picture which a traveller had scratched on the clay wall in the old days when men were bolder and less reluctant to visit Ngranek's higher slopes. The old tavern-keeper's great-grandfather had heard from his great-grandfather that the traveller who scratched that picture had climbed Ngranek and seen the carven face, here drawing it for others to behold, but Carter had very great doubts, since the large rough features on the wall were hasty and careless, and wholly overshadowed by a crowd of little companion shapes in the worst possible taste, with horns and wings and claws and curling tails.

At last, having gained all the information he was likely to gain in the taverns and public places of Baharna, Carter hired a zebra and set out one morning on the road by Yath's shore for those inland parts wherein towers stony Ngranek. On his right were rolling hills and pleasant orchards and neat little stone farmhouses, and he was much reminded of those fertile fields that flank the Skai. By evening he was near the nameless ancient ruins on Yath's farther shore, and though old lava-gatherers had warned him not to camp there at night, he tethered his zebra to a curious pillar before a crumbling wall and laid his blanket in a sheltered corner beneath some carvings whose meaning none could decipher. Around him he wrapped another blanket, for the nights are cold in Oriab; and when upon awaking once he thought he felt the wings of some insect brushing his face he covered his head altogether and slept in peace till roused by the magah birds in distant resin groves.

The sun had just come up over the great slope whereon leagues of primal brick foundations and worn walls and occasional cracked pillars and pedestals stretched down desolate to the shore of Yath, and Carter looked about for his tethered zebra. Great was his dismay to see that docile beast stretched prostrate beside the curious pillar to which it had been tied, and still greater was he vexed on finding that the steed was quite dead, with its blood all sucked away through a singular wound in its throat. His pack had been disturbed, and several shiny knickknacks taken away, and all round on the dusty soil' were great webbed footprints for which he could not in any way account. The legends and warnings of lava-gatherers occurred to him, and he thought of what had brushed his face in the night. Then he shouldered his pack and strode on toward Ngranek, though not without a shiver when he saw close to him as the highway passed through the ruins a great gaping arch low in the wall of an old temple, with steps leading down into darkness farther than he could peer.

His course now lay uphill through wilder and partly wooded country, and he saw only the huts of charcoal-burners and the camp of those who gathered resin from the groves. The whole air was fragrant with balsam, and all the magah birds sang blithely as they flashed their seven colours in the sun. Near sunset he came on a new camp of lava-gatherers returning with laden sacks from Ngranek's lower slopes; and here he also camped, listening to the songs and tales of the men, and overhearing what they whispered about a companion they had lost. He had climbed high to reach a mass of fine lava above him, and at nightfall did not return to his fellows. When they looked for him the next day they found only his turban, nor was there any sign on the crags below that he had fallen. They did not search any more, because the old man among them said it would be of no use.

No one ever found what the night-gaunts took, though those beasts themselves were so uncertain as to be almost fabulous. Carter asked them if night-gaunts sucked blood and liked shiny things and left webbed footprints, but they all shook their heads negatively and seemed frightened at his making such an inquiry. When he saw how taciturn they had become he asked them no more, but went to sleep in his blanket.

The next day he rose with the lava-gatherers and exchanged farewells as they rode west and he rode east on a zebra he bought of them. Their older men gave him blessings and warnings, and told him he had better not climb too high on Ngranek, but while he thanked them heartily he was in no wise dissuaded. For still did he feel that he must find the gods on unknown Kadath; and win from them a way to that haunting and marvellous city in the sunset. By noon, after a long uphill ride, he came upon some abandoned brick villages of the hill-people who had once dwelt thus close to Ngranek and carved images from its smooth lava. Here they had dwelt till the days of the old tavernkeeper's grandfather, but about that time they felt that their presence was disliked. Their homes had crept even up the mountain's slope, and the higher they built the more people they would miss when the sun rose. At last they decided it would be better to leave altogether, since things were sometimes glimpsed in the darkness which no one could interpret favourably; so in the end all of them went down to the sea and dwelt in Bahama, inhabiting a very old quarter and teaching their sons the old art of image-making which to this day they carry on. It was from these children of the exiled hill-people that Carter had heard the best tales about Ngranek when searching through Bahama's ancient taverns.

All this time the great gaunt side of Ngranek was looming up higher and higher as Carter approached it. There were sparse trees on the lower slopes and feeble shrubs above them, and then the bare hideous rock rose spectral into the sky, to mix with frost and ice and eternal snow. Carter could see the rifts and ruggedness of that sombre stone, and did not welcome the prospect of climbing it. In places there were solid streams of lava, and scoriac heaps that littered slopes and ledges. Ninety aeons ago, before even the gods had danced upon its pointed peak, that mountain had spoken with fire and roared with the voices of the inner thunders. Now it towered all silent and sinister, bearing on the hidden side that secret titan image whereof rumour told. And there were caves in that mountain, which might be empty and alone with elder darkness, or might - if legend spoke truly - hold horrors of a form not to be surmised.

The ground sloped upward to the foot of Ngranek, thinly covered with scrub oaks and ash trees, and strewn with bits of rock, lava, and ancient cinder. There were the charred embers of many camps, where the lava-gatherers were wont to stop, and several rude altars which they had built either to propitiate the Great Ones or to ward off what they dreamed of in Ngranek's high passes and labyrinthine caves. At evening Carter reached the farthermost pile of embers and camped for the night, tethering his zebra to a sapling and wrapping himself well in his blankets before going to sleep. And all through the night a voonith howled distantly from the shore of some hidden pool, but Carter felt no fear of that amphibious terror, since he had been told with certainty that not one of them dares even approach the slope of Ngranek.

In the clear sunshine of morning Carter began the long ascent, taking his zebra as far as that useful beast could go, but tying it to a stunted ash tree when the floor of the thin wood became too steep. Thereafter he scrambled up alone; first through the forest with its ruins of old villages in overgrown clearings, and then over the tough grass where anaemic shrubs grew here and there. He regretted coming clear of the trees, since the slope was very precipitous and the whole thing rather dizzying. At length he began to discern all the countryside spread out beneath him whenever he looked about; the deserted huts of the image-makers, the groves of resin trees and the camps of those who gathered from them, the woods where prismatic magahs nest and sing, and even a hint very far away of the shores of Yath and of those forbidding ancient ruins whose name is forgotten. He found it best not to look around, and kept on climbing and climbing till the shrubs became very sparse and there was often nothing but the tough grass to cling to.

Then the soil became meagre, with great patches of bare rock cropping out, and now and then the nest of a condor in a crevice. Finally there was nothing at all but the bare rock, and had it not been very rough and weathered, he could scarcely have ascended farther. Knobs, ledges, and pinnacles, however, helped greatly; and it was cheering to see occasionally the sign of some lava-gatherer scratched clumsily in the friable stone, and know that wholesome human creatures had been there before him. After a certain height the presence of man was further shewn by handholds and footholds hewn where they were needed, and by little quarries and excavations where some choice vein or stream of lava had been found. In one place a narrow ledge had been chopped artificially to an especially rich deposit far to the right of the main line of ascent. Once or twice Carter dared to look around, and was almost stunned by the spread of landscape below. All the island betwixt him and the coast lay open to his sight, with Baharna's stone terraces and the smoke of its chimneys mystical in the distance. And beyond that the illimitable Southern Sea with all its curious secrets.

Thus far there had been much winding around the mountain, so that the farther and carven side was still hidden. Carter now saw a ledge running upward and to the left which seemed to head the way he wished, and this course he took in the hope that it might prove continuous. After ten minutes he saw it was indeed no cul-de-sac, but that it led steeply on in an arc which would, unless suddenly interrupted or deflected, bring him after a few hours' climbing to that unknown southern slope overlooking the desolate crags and the accursed valley of lava. As new country came into view below him he saw that it was bleaker and wilder than those seaward lands he had traversed. The mountain's side, too, was somewhat different; being here pierced by curious cracks and caves not found on the straighter route he had left. Some of these were above him and some beneath him, all opening on sheerly perpendicular cliffs and wholly unreachable by the feet of man. The air was very cold now, but so hard was the climbing that he did not mind it. Only the increasing rarity bothered him, and he thought that perhaps it was this which had turned the heads of other travellers and excited those absurd tales of night-gaunts whereby they explained the loss of such climbers as fell from these perilous paths. He was not much impressed by travellers' tales, but had a good curved scimitar in case of any trouble. All lesser thoughts were lost in the wish to see that carven face which might set him on the track of the gods atop unknown Kadath.

At last, in the fearsome iciness of upper space, he came round fully to the hidden side of Ngranek and saw in infinite gulfs below him the lesser crags and sterile abysses of lava which marked olden wrath of the Great Ones. There was unfolded, too, a vast expanse of country to the south; but it was a desert land without fair fields or cottage chimneys, and seemed to have no ending. No trace of the sea was visible on this side, for Oriab is a great island. Black caverns and odd crevices were still numerous on the sheer vertical cliffs, but none of them was accessible to a climber. There now loomed aloft a great beetling mass which hampered the upward view, and Carter was for a moment shaken with doubt lest it prove impassable. Poised in windy insecurity miles above earth, with only space and death on one side and only slippery walls of rock on the other, he knew for a moment the fear that makes men shun Ngranek's hidden side. He could not turn round, yet the sun was already low. If there were no way aloft, the night would find him crouching there still, and the dawn would not find him at all.

But there was a way, and he saw it in due season. Only a very expert dreamer could have used those imperceptible footholds, yet to Carter they were sufficient. Surmounting now the outward-hanging rock, he found the slope above much easier than that below, since a great glacier's melting had left a generous space with loam and ledges. To the left a precipice dropped straight from unknown heights to unknown depths, with a cave's dark mouth just out of reach above him. Elsewhere, however, the mountain slanted back strongly, and even gave him space to lean and rest.

He felt from the chill that he must be near the snow line, and looked up to see what glittering pinnacles might be shining in that late ruddy sunlight. Surely enough, there was the snow uncounted thousands of feet above, and below it a great beetling crag like that. he had just climbed; hanging there forever in bold outline. And when he saw that crag he gasped and cried out aloud, and clutched at the jagged rock in awe; for the titan bulge had not stayed as earth's dawn had shaped it, but gleamed red and stupendous in the sunset with the carved and polished features of a god.

Stern and terrible shone that face that the sunset lit with fire. How vast it was no mind can ever measure, but Carter knew at once that man could never have fashioned it. It was a god chiselled by the hands of the gods, and it looked down haughty and majestic upon the seeker. Rumour had said it was strange and not to be mistaken, and Carter saw that it was indeed so; for those long narrow eyes and long-lobed ears, and that thin nose and pointed chin, all spoke of a race that is not of men but of gods.

He clung overawed in that lofty and perilous eyrie, even though it was this which he had expected and come to find; for there is in a god's face more of marvel than prediction can tell, and when that face is vaster than a great temple and seen looking downward at sunset in the scyptic silences of that upper world from whose dark lava it was divinely hewn of old, the marvel is so strong that none may escape it.

Here, too, was the added marvel of recognition; for although he had planned to search all dreamland over for those whose likeness to this face might mark them as the god's children, he now knew that he need not do so. Certainly, the great face carven on that mountain was of no strange sort, but the kin of such as he had seen often in the taverns of the seaport Celephais which lies in Ooth-Nargai beyond the Tanarian Hills and is ruled over by that King Kuranes whom Carter once knew in waking life. Every year sailors with such a face came in dark ships from the north to trade their onyx for the carved jade and spun gold and little red singing birds of Celephais, and it was clear that these could be no others than the hall-gods he sought. Where they dwelt, there must the cold waste lie close, and within it unknown Kadath and its onyx castle for the Great Ones. So to Celephais he must go, far distant from the isle of Oriab, and in such parts as would take him back to Dylath-Teen and up the Skai to the bridge by Nir, and again into the enchanted wood of the Zoogs, whence the way would bend northward through the garden lands by Oukranos to the gilded spires of Thran, where he might find a galleon bound over the Cerenarian Sea.

But dusk was now thick, and the great carven face looked down even sterner in shadow. Perched on that ledge night found the seeker; and in the blackness he might neither go down nor go up, but only stand and cling and shiver in that narrow place till the day came, praying to keep awake lest sleep loose his hold and send him down the dizzy miles of air to the crags and sharp rocks of the accursed valley. The stars came out, but save for them there was only black nothingness in his eyes; nothingness leagued with death, against whose beckoning he might do no more than cling to the rocks and lean back away from an unseen brink. The last thing of earth that he saw in the gloaming was a condor soaring close to the westward precipice beside him, and darting screaming away when it came near the cave whose mouth yawned just out of reach.

Suddenly, without a warning sound in the dark, Carter felt his curved scimitar drawn stealthily out of his belt by some unseen hand. Then he heard it clatter down over the rocks below. And between him and the Milky Way he thought he saw a very terrible outline of something noxiously thin and horned and tailed and bat-winged. Other things, too, had begun to blot out patches of stars west of him, as if a flock of vague entities were flapping thickly and silently out of that inaccessible cave in the face of the precipice. Then a sort of cold rubbery arm seized his neck and something else seized his feet, and he was lifted inconsiderately up and swung about in space. Another minute and the stars were gone, and Carter knew that the night-gaunts had got him.

They bore him breathless into that cliffside cavern and through monstrous labyrinths beyond. When he struggled, as at first he did by instinct, they tickled him with deliberation. They made no sound at all themselves, and even their membranous wings were silent. They were frightfully cold and damp and slippery, and their paws kneaded one detestably. Soon they were plunging hideously downward through inconceivable abysses in a whirling, giddying, sickening rush of dank, tomb-like air; and Carter felt they were shooting into the ultimate vortex of shrieking and daemonic madness. He screamed again and again, but whenever he did so the black paws tickled him with greater subtlety. Then he saw a sort of grey phosphorescence about, and guessed they were coming even to that inner world of subterrene horror of which dim legends tell, and which is litten only by the pale death-fire wherewith reeks the ghoulish air and the primal mists of the pits at earth's core.

At last far below him he saw faint lines of grey and ominous pinnacles which he knew must be the fabled Peaks of Throk. Awful and sinister they stand in the haunted disc of sunless and eternal depths; higher than man may reckon, and guarding terrible valleys where the Dholes crawl and burrow nastily. But Carter preferred to look at them than at his captors, which were indeed shocking and uncouth black things with smooth, oily, whale-like surfaces, unpleasant horns that curved inward toward each other, bat wings whose beating made no sound, ugly prehensile paws, and barbed tails that lashed needlessly and disquietingly. And worst of all, they never spoke or laughed, and never smiled because they had no faces at all to smile with, but only a suggestive blankness where a face ought to be. All they ever did was clutch and fly and tickle; that was the way of night-gaunts.

As the band flew lower the Peaks of Throk rose grey and towering on all sides, and one saw clearly that nothing lived on that austere and impressive granite of the endless twilight. At still lower levels the death-fires in the air gave out, and one met only the primal blackness of the void save aloft where the thin peaks stood out goblin-like. Soon the peaks were very far away, and nothing about but great rushing winds with the dankness of nethermost grottoes in them. Then in the end the night-gaunts landed on a floor of unseen things which felt like layers of bones, and left Carter all alone in that black valley. To bring him thither was the duty of the night-gaunts that guard Ngranek; and this done, they flapped away silently. When Carter tried to trace their flight he found he could not, since even the Peaks of Throk had faded out of sight. There was nothing anywhere but blackness and horror and silence and bones.

Now Carter knew from a certain source that he was in the vale of Pnoth, where crawl and burrow the enormous Dholes; but he did not know what to expect, because no one has ever seen a Dhole or even guessed what such a thing may be like. Dholes are known only by dim rumour, from the rustling they make amongst mountains of bones and the slimy touch they have when they wriggle past one. They cannot be seen because they creep only in the dark. Carter did not wish to meet a Dhole, so listened intently for any sound in the unknown depths of bones about him. Even in this fearsome place he had a plan and an objective, for whispers of Pnoth were not unknown to one with whom he had talked much in the old days. In brief, it seemed fairly likely that this was the spot into which all the ghouls of the waking world cast the refuse of their feastings; and that if he but had good luck he might stumble upon that mighty crag taller even than Throk's peaks which marks the edge of their domain. Showers of bones would tell him where to look, and once found he could call to a ghoul to let down a ladder; for strange to say, he had a very singular link with these terrible creatures.

A man he had known in Boston - a painter of strange pictures with a secret studio in an ancient and unhallowed alley near a graveyard - had actually made friends with the ghouls and had taught him to understand the simpler part of their disgusting meeping and glibbering. This man had vanished at last, and Carter was not sure but that he might find him now, and use for the first time in dreamland that far-away English of his dim waking life. In any case, he felt he could persuade a ghoul to guide him out of Pnoth; and it would be better to meet a ghoul, which one can see, than a Dhole, which one cannot see.

So Carter walked in the dark, and ran when he thought he heard something among the bones underfoot. Once he bumped into a stony slope, and knew it must be the base of one of Throk's peaks. Then at last he heard a monstrous rattling and clatter which reached far up in the air, and became sure he had come nigh the crag of the ghouls. He was not sure he could be heard from this valley miles below, but realised that the inner world has strange laws. As he pondered he was struck by a flying bone so heavy that it must have been a skull, and therefore realising his nearness to the fateful crag he sent up as best he might that meeping cry which is the call of the ghoul.

Sound travels slowly, so it was some time before he heard an answering glibber. But it came at last, and before long he was told that a rope ladder would be lowered. The wait for this was very tense, since there was no telling what might not have been stirred up among those bones by his shouting. Indeed, it was not long before he actually did hear a vague rustling afar off. As this thoughtfully approached, he became more and more uncomfortable; for he did not wish to move away from the spot where the ladder would come. Finally the tension grew almost unbearable, and he was about to flee in panic when the thud of something on the newly heaped bones nearby drew his notice from the other sound. It was the ladder, and after a minute of groping he had it taut in his hands. But the other sound did not cease, and followed him even as he climbed. He had gone fully five feet from the ground when the rattling beneath waxed emphatic, and was a good ten feet up when something swayed the ladder from below. At a height which must have been fifteen or twenty feet he felt his whole side brushed by a great slippery length which grew alternately convex and concave with wriggling; and hereafter he climbed desperately to escape the unendurable nuzzling of that loathsome and overfed Dhole whose form no man might see.

For hours he climbed with aching and blistered hands, seeing again the grey death-fire and Throk's uncomfortable pinnacles. At last he discerned above him the projecting edge of the great crag of the ghouls, whose vertical side he could not glimpse; and hours later he saw a curious face peering over it as a gargoyle peers over a parapet of Notre Dame. This almost made him lose his hold through faintness, but a moment later he was himself again; for his vanished friend Richard Pickman had once introduced him to a ghoul, and he knew well their canine faces and slumping forms and unmentionable idiosyncrasies. So he had himself well under control when that hideous thing pulled him out of the dizzy emptiness over the edge of the crag, and did not scream at the partly consumed refuse heaped at one side or at the squatting circles of ghouls who gnawed and watched curiously.

He was now on a dim-litten plain whose sole topographical features were great boulders and the entrances of burrows. The ghouls were in general respectful, even if one did attempt to pinch him while several others eyed his leanness speculatively. Through patient glibbering he made inquiries regarding his vanished friend, and found he had become a ghoul of some prominence in abysses nearer the waking world. A greenish elderly ghoul offered to conduct him to Pickman's present habitation, so despite a natural loathing he followed the creature into a capacious burrow and crawled after him for hours in the blackness of rank mould. They emerged on a dim plain strewn with singular relics of earth - old gravestones, broken urns, and grotesque fragments of monuments - and Carter realised with some emotion that he was probably nearer the waking world than at any other time since he had gone down the seven hundred steps from the cavern of flame to the Gate of Deeper Slumber.

There, on a tombstone of 1768 stolen from the Granary Burying Ground in Boston, sat a ghoul which was once the artist Richard Upton Pickman. It was naked and rubbery, and had acquired so much of the ghoulish physiognomy that its human origin was already obscure. But it still remembered a little English, and was able to converse with Carter in grunts and monosyllables, helped out now and then by the glibbering of ghouls. When it learned that Carter wished to get to the enchanted wood and from there to the city Celephais in Ooth-Nargai beyond the Tanarian Hills, it seemed rather doubtful; for these ghouls of the waking world do no business in the graveyards of upper dreamland (leaving that to the red-footed wamps that are spawned in dead cities), and many things intervene betwixt their gulf and the enchanted wood, including the terrible kingdom of the Gugs.

The Gugs, hairy and gigantic, once reared stone circles in that wood and made strange sacrifices to the Other Gods and the crawling chaos Nyarlathotep, until one night an abomination of theirs reached the ears of earth's gods and they were banished to caverns below. Only a great trap door of stone with an iron ring connects the abyss of the earth-ghouls with the enchanted wood, and this the Gugs are afraid to open because of a curse. That a mortal dreamer could traverse their cavern realm and leave by that door is inconceivable; for mortal dreamers were their former food, and they have legends of the toothsomeness of such dreamers even though banishment has restricted their diet to the ghasts, those repulsive beings which die in the light, and which live in the vaults of Zin and leap on long hind legs like kangaroos.

So the ghoul that was Pickman advised Carter either to leave the abyss at Sarkomand, that deserted city in the valley below Leng where black nitrous stairways guarded by winged diarote lions lead down from dreamland to the lower gulfs, or to return through a churchyard to the waking world and begin the quest anew down the seventy steps of light slumber to the cavern of flame and the seven hundred steps to the Gate of Deeper Slumber and the enchanted wood. This, however, did not suit the seeker; for he knew nothing of the way from Leng to Ooth-Nargai, and was likewise reluctant to awake lest he forget all he had so far gained in this dream. It was disastrous to his quest to forget the august and celestial faces of those seamen from the north who traded onyx in Celephais, and who, being the sons of gods, must point the way to the cold waste and Kadath where the Great Ones dwell.

After much persuasion the ghoul consented to guide his guest inside the great wall of the Gugs' kingdom. There was one chance that Carter might be able to steal through that twilight realm of circular stone towers at an hour when the giants would be all gorged and snoring indoors, and reach the central tower with the sign of Koth upon it, which has the stairs leading up to that stone trap door in the enchanted wood. Pickman even consented to lend three ghouls to help with a tombstone lever in raising the stone door; for of ghouls the Gugs are somewhat afraid, and they often flee from their own colossal graveyards when they see them feasting there.

He also advised Carter to disguise as a ghoul himself; shaving the beard he had allowed to grow (for ghouls have none), wallowing naked in the mould to get the correct surface, and loping in the usual slumping way, with his clothing carried in a bundle as if it were a choice morsel from a tomb. They would reach the city of Gugs - which is coterminous with the whole kingdom - through the proper burrows, emerging in a cemetery not far from the stair-containing Tower of Koth. They must beware, however, of a large cave near the cemetery; for this is the mouth of the vaults of Zin, and the vindictive ghasts are always on watch there murderously for those denizens of the upper abyss who hunt and prey on them. The ghasts try to come out when the Gugs sleep and they attack ghouls as readily as Gugs, for they cannot discriminate. They are very primitive, and eat one another. The Gugs have a sentry at a narrow in the vaults of Zin, but he is often drowsy and is sometimes surprised by a party of ghasts. Though ghasts cannot live in real light, they can endure the grey twilight of the abyss for hours.

So at length Carter crawled through endless burrows with three helpful ghouls bearing the slate gravestone of Col. Nepemiah Derby, obit 1719, from the Charter Street Burying Ground in Salem. When they came again into open twilight they were in a forest of vast lichened monoliths reaching nearly as high as the eye could see and forming the modest gravestones of the Gugs. On the right of the hole out of which they wriggled, and seen through aisles of monoliths, was a stupendous vista of cyclopean round towers mounting up illimitable into the grey air of inner earth. This was the great city of the Gugs, whose doorways are thirty feet high. Ghouls come here often, for a buried Gug will feed a community for almost a year, and even with the added peril it is better to burrow for Gugs than to bother with the graves of men. Carter now understood the occasional titan bones he had felt beneath him in the vale of Pnoth.

Straight ahead, and just outside the cemetery, rose a sheer perpendicular cliff at whose base an immense and forbidding cavern yawned. This the ghouls told Carter to avoid as much as possible, since it was the entrance to the unhallowed vaults of Zin where Gugs hunt ghasts in the darkness. And truly, that warning was soon well justified; for the moment a ghoul began to creep toward the towers to see if the hour of the Gugs' resting had been rightly timed, there glowed in the gloom of that great cavern's mouth first one pair of yellowish-red eyes and then another, implying that the Gugs were one sentry less, and that ghasts have indeed an excellent sharpness of smell. So the ghoul returned to the burrow and motioned his companions to be silent. It was best to leave the ghasts to their own devices, and there was a possibility that they might soon withdraw, since they must naturally be rather tired after coping with a Gug sentry in the black vaults. After a moment something about the size of a small horse hopped out into the grey twilight, and Carter turned sick at the aspect of that scabrous and unwholesome beast, whose face is so curiously human despite the absence of a nose, a forehead, and other important particulars.

Presently three other ghasts hopped out to join their fellow, and a ghoul glibbered softly at Carter that their absence of battle-scars was a bad sign. It proved that theY had not fought the Gug sentry at all, but had merely slipped past him as he slept, so that their strength and savagery were still unimpaired and would remain so till they had found and disposed of a victim. It was very unpleasant to see those filthy and disproportioned animals which soon numbered about fifteen, grubbing about and making their kangaroo leaps in the grey twilight where titan towers and monoliths arose, but it was still more unpleasant when they spoke among themselves in the coughing gutturals of ghasts. And yet, horrible as they were, they were not so horrible as what presently came out of the cave after them with disconcerting suddenness.

It was a paw, fully two feet and a half across, and equipped with formidable talons. Alter it came another paw, and after that a great black-furred arm to which both of the paws were attached by short forearms. Then two pink eyes shone, and the head of the awakened Gug sentry, large as a barrel, wabbled into view. The eyes jutted two inches from each side, shaded by bony protuberances overgrown with coarse hairs. But the head was chiefly terrible because of the mouth. That mouth had great yellow fangs and ran from the top to the bottom of the head, opening vertically instead of horizontally.

But before that unfortunate Gug could emerge from the cave and rise to his full twenty feet, the vindictive ghasts were upon him. Carter feared for a moment that he would give an alarm and arouse all his kin, till a ghoul softly glibbered that Gugs have no voice but talk by means of facial expression. The battle which then ensued was truly a frightful one. From all sides the venomous ghasts rushed feverishly at the creeping Gug, nipping and tearing with their muzzles, and mauling murderously with their hard pointed hooves. All the time they coughed excitedly, screaming when the great vertical mouth of the Gug would occasionally bite into one of their number, so that the noise of the combat would surely have aroused the sleeping city had not the weakening of the sentry begun to transfer the action farther and farther within the cavern. As it was, the tumult soon receded altogether from sight in the blackness, with only occasional evil echoes to mark its continuance.

Then the most alert of the ghouls gave the signal for all to advance, and Carter followed the loping three out of the forest of monoliths and into the dark noisome streets of that awful city whose rounded towers of cyclopean stone soared up beyond the sight. Silently they shambled over that rough rock pavement, hearing with disgust the abominable muffled snortings from great black doorways which marked the slumber of the Gugs. Apprehensive of the ending of the rest hour, the ghouls set a somewhat rapid pace; but even so the journey was no brief one, for distances in that town of giants are on a great scale. At last, however, they came to a somewhat open space before a tower even vaster than the rest; above whose colossal doorway was fixed a monstrous symbol in bas-relief which made one shudder without knowing its meaning. This was the central tower with the sign of Koth, and those huge stone steps just visible through the dusk within were the beginning of the great flight leading to upper dreamland and the enchanted wood.

There now began a climb of interminable length in utter blackness: made almost impossible by the monstrous size of the steps, which were fashioned for Gugs, and were therefore nearly a yard high. Of their number Carter could form no just estimate, for he soon became so worn out that the tireless and elastic ghouls were forced to aid him. All through the endless climb there lurked the peril of detection and pursuit; for though no Gug dares lift the stone door to the forest because of the Great One's curse, there are no such restraints concerning the tower and the steps, and escaped ghasts are often chased, even to the very top. So sharp are the ears of Gugs, that the bare feet and hands of the climbers might readily be heard when the city awoke; and it would of course take but little time for the striding giants, accustomed from their ghast-hunts in the vaults of Zin to seeing without light, to overtake their smaller and slower quarry on those cyclopean steps. It was very depressing to reflect that the silent pursuing Gugs would not be heard at all, but would come very suddenly and shockingly in the dark upon the climbers. Nor could the traditional fear of Gugs for ghouls be depended upon in that peculiar place where the advantages lay so heavily with the Gugs. There was also some peril from the furtive and venomous ghasts, which frequently hopped up onto the tower during the sleep hour of the Gugs. If the Gugs slept long, and the ghasts returned soon from their deed in the cavern, the scent of the climbers might easily be picked up by those loathsome and ill-disposed things; in which case it would almost be better to be eaten by a Gug.

Then, after aeons of climbing, there came a cough from the darkness above; and matters assumed a very grave and unexpected turn.

It was clear that a ghast, or perhaps even more, had strayed into that tower before the coming of Carter and his guides; and it was equally clear that this peril was very close. Alter a breathless second the leading ghoul pushed Carter to the wall and arranged his kinfolk in the best possible way, with the old slate tombstone raised for a crushing blow whenever the enemy might come in sight. Ghouls can see in the dark, so the party was not as badly off as Carter would have been alone. In another moment the clatter of hooves revealed the downward hopping of at least one beast, and the slab-bearing ghouls poised their weapon for a desperate blow. Presently two yellowish-red eyes flashed into view, and the panting of the ghast became audible above its clattering. As it hopped down to the step above the ghouls, they wielded the ancient gravestone with prodigious force, so that there was only a wheeze and a choking before the victim collapsed in a noxious heap. There seemed to be only this one animal, and after a moment of listening the ghouls tapped Carter as a signal to proceed again. As before, they were obliged to aid him; and he was glad to leave that place of carnage where the ghast's uncouth remains sprawled invisible in the blackness.

At last the ghouls brought their companion to a halt; and feeling above him, Carter realised that the great stone trap door was reached at last. To open so vast a thing completely was not to be thought of, but the ghouls hoped to get it up just enough to slip the gravestone under as a prop, and permit Carter to escape through the crack. They themselves planned to descend again and return through the city of the Gugs, since their elusiveness was great, and they did not know the way overland to spectral Sarkomand with its lion-guarded gate to the abyss.

Mighty was the straining of those three ghouls at the stone of the door above them, and Carter helped push with as much strength as he had. They judged the edge next the top of the staircase to be the right one, and to this they bent all the force of their disreputably nourished muscles. Alter a few moments a crack of light appeared; and Carter, to whom that task had been entrusted, slipped the end of the old gravestone in the aperture. There now ensued a mighty heaving; but progress was very slow, and they had of course to return to their first position every time they failed to turn the slab and prop the portal open.

Suddenly their desperation was magnified a thousand fold by a sound on the steps below them. It was only the thumping and rattling of the slain ghast's hooved body as it rolled down to lower levels; but of all the possible causes of that body's dislodgement and rolling, none was in the least reassuring. Therefore, knowing the ways of Gugs, the ghouls set to with something of a frenzy; and in a surprisingly short time had the door so high that they were able to hold it still whilst Carter turned the slab and left a generous opening. They now helped Carter through, letting him climb up to their rubbery shoulders and later guiding his feet as he clutched at the blessed soil of the upper dreamland outside. Another second and they were through themselves, knocking away the gravestone and closing the great trap door while a panting became audible beneath. Because of the Great One's curse no Gug might ever emerge from that portal, so with a deep relief and sense of repose Carter lay quietly on the thick grotesque fungi of the enchanted wood while his guides squatted near in the manner that ghouls rest.

Weird as was that enchanted wood through which he had fared so long ago, it was verily a haven and a delight after those gulfs he had now left behind. There was no living denizen about, for Zoogs shun the mysterious door in fear and Carter at once consulted with his ghouls about their future course. To return through the tower they no longer dared, and the waking world did not appeal to them when they learned that they must pass the priests Nasht and Kaman-Thah in the cavern of flame. So at length they decided to return through Sarkomand and its gate of the abyss, though of how to get there they knew nothing. Carter recalled that it lies in the valley below Leng, and recalled likewise that he had seen in Dylath-Leen a sinister, slant-eyed old merchant reputed to trade on Leng, therefore he advised the ghouls to seek out Dylath-Leen, crossing the fields to Nir and the Skai and following the river to its mouth. This they at once resolved to do, and lost no time in loping off, since the thickening of the dusk promised a full night ahead for travel. And Carter shook the paws of those repulsive beasts, thanking them for their help and sending his gratitude to the beast which once was Pickman; but could not help sighing with pleasure when they left. For a ghoul is a ghoul, and at best an unpleasant companion for man. After that Carter sought a forest pool and cleansed himself of the mud of nether earth, thereupon reassuming the clothes he had so carefully carried.

It was now night in that redoubtable wood of monstrous trees, but because of the phosphorescence one might travel as well as by day; wherefore Carter set out upon the well-known route toward Celephais, in Ooth-Nargai beyond the Tanarian Hills. And as he went he thought of the zebra he had left tethered to an ash-tree on Ngranek in far-away Oriab so many aeons ago, and wondered if any lava-gatherers had fed and released it. And he wondered, too, if he would ever return to Baharna and pay for the zebra that was slain by night in those ancient ruins by Yath's shore, and if the old tavernkeeper would remember him. Such were the thoughts that came to him in the air of the regained upper dreamland.

But presently his progress was halted by a sound from a very large hollow tree. He had avoided the great circle of stones, since he did not care to speak with Zoogs just now; but it appeared from the singular fluttering in that huge tree that important councils were in session elsewhere. Upon drawing nearer he made out the accents of a tense and heated discussion; and before long became conscious of matters which he viewed with the greatest concern. For a war on the cats was under debate in that sovereign assembly of Zoogs. It all came from the loss of the party which had sneaked after Carter to Ulthar, and which the cats had justly punished for unsuitable intentions. The matter had long rankled; and now, or at least within a month, the marshalled Zoogs were about to strike the whole feline tribe in a series of surprise attacks, taking individual cats or groups of cats unawares, and giving not even the myriad cats of Ulthar a proper chance to drill and mobilise. This was the plan of the Zoogs, and Carter saw that he must foil it before leaving upon his mighty quest.

Very quietly therefore did Randolph Carter steal to the edge of the wood and send the cry of the cat over the starlit fields. And a great grimalkin in a nearby cottage took up the burden and relayed it across leagues of rolling meadow to warriors large and small, black, grey, tiger, white, yellow, and mixed, and it echoed through Nir and beyond the Skai even into Ulthar, and Ulthar's numerous cats called in chorus and fell into a line of march. It was fortunate that the moon was not up, so that all the cats were on earth. Swiftly and silently leaping, they sprang from every hearth and housetop and poured in a great furry sea across the plains to the edge of the wood. Carter was there to greet them, and the sight of shapely, wholesome cats was indeed good for his eyes after the things he had seen and walked with in the abyss. He was glad to see his venerable friend and one-time rescuer at the head of Ulthar's detachment, a collar of rank around his sleek neck, and whiskers bristling at a martial angle. Better still, as a sub-lieutenant in that army was a brisk young fellow who proved to be none other than the very little kitten at the inn to whom Carter had given a saucer of rich cream on that long-vanished morning in Ulthar. He was a strapping and promising cat now, and purred as he shook hands with his friend. His grandfather said he was doing very well in the army, and that he might well expect a captaincy after one more campaign.

Carter now outlined the peril of the cat tribe, and was rewarded by deep-throated purrs of gratitude from all sides. Consulting with the generals, he prepared a plan of instant action which involved marching at once upon the Zoog council and other known strongholds of Zoogs; forestalling their surprise attacks and forcing them to terms before the mobilization of their army of invasion. Thereupon without a moment's loss that great ocean of cats flooded the enchanted wood and surged around the council tree and the great stone circle. Flutterings rose to panic pitch as the enemy saw the newcomers and there was very little resistance among the furtive and curious brown Zoogs. They saw that they were beaten in advance, and turned from thoughts of vengeance to thoughts of present self-preservation.

Half the cats now seated themselves in a circular formation with the captured Zoogs in the centre, leaving open a lane down which were marched the additional captives rounded up by the other cats in other parts of the wood. Terms were discussed at length, Carter acting as interpreter, and it was decided that the Zoogs might remain a free tribe on condition of rendering to the cats a large tribute of grouse, quail, and pheasants from the less fabulous parts of the forest. Twelve young Zoogs of noble families were taken as hostages to be kept in the Temple of Cats at Ulthar, and the victors made it plain that any disappearances of cats on the borders of the Zoog domain would be followed by consequences highly disastrous to Zoogs. These matters disposed of, the assembled cats broke ranks and permitted the Zoogs to slink off one by one to their respective homes, which they hastened to do with many a sullen backward glance.

The old cat general now offered Carter an escort through the forest to whatever border he wished to reach, deeming it likely that the Zoogs would harbour dire resentment against him for the frustration of their warlike enterprise. This offer he welcomed with gratitude; not only for the safety it afforded, but because he liked the graceful companionship of cats. So in the midst of a pleasant and playful regiment, relaxed after the successful performance of its duty, Randolph Carter walked with dignity through that enchanted and phosphorescent wood of titan trees, talking of his quest with the old general and his grandson whilst others of the band indulged in fantastic gambols or chased fallen leaves that the wind drove among the fungi of that primeval floor. And the old cat said that he had heard much of unknown Kadath in the cold waste, but did not know where it was. As for the marvellous sunset city, he had not even heard of that, but would gladly relay to Carter anything he might later learn.

He gave the seeker some passwords of great value among the cats of dreamland, and commended him especially to the old chief of the cats in Celephais, whither he was bound. That old cat, already slightly known to Carter, was a dignified maltese; and would prove highly influential in any transaction. It was dawn when they came to the proper edge of the wood, and Carter bade his friends a reluctant farewell. The young sub-lieutenant he had met as a small kitten would have followed him had not the old general forbidden it, but that austere patriarch insisted that the path of duty lay with the tribe and the army. So Carter set out alone over the golden fields that stretched mysterious beside a willow-fringed river, and the cats went back into the wood.

Well did the traveller know those garden lands that lie betwixt the wood of the Cerenerian Sea, and blithely did he follow the singing river Oukianos that marked his course. The sun rose higher over gentle slopes of grove and lawn, and heightened the colours of the thousand flowers that starred each knoll and dangle. A blessed haze lies upon all this region, wherein is held a little more of the sunlight than other places hold, and a little more of the summer's humming music of birds and bees; so that men walk through it as through a faery place, and feel greater joy and wonder than they ever afterward remember.

By noon Carter reached the jasper terraces of Kiran which slope down to the river's edge and bear that temple of loveliness wherein the King of Ilek-Vad comes from his far realm on the twilight sea once a year in a golden palanqnin to pray to the god of Oukianos, who sang to him in youth when he dwelt in a cottage by its banks. All of jasper is that temple, and covering an acre of ground with its walls and courts, its seven pinnacled towers, and its inner shrine where the river enters through hidden channels and the god sings softly in the night. Many times the moon hears strange music as it shines on those courts and terraces and pinnacles, but whether that music be the song of the god or the chant of the cryptical priests, none but the King of Ilek-Vad may say; for only he had entered the temple or seen the priests. Now, in the drowsiness of day, that carven and delicate fane was silent, and Carter heard only the murmur of the great stream and the hum of the birds and bees as he walked onward under the enchanted sun.

All that afternoon the pilgrim wandered on through perfumed meadows and in the lee of gentle riverward hills bearing peaceful thatched cottages and the shrines of amiable gods carven from jasper or chrysoberyl. Sometimes he walked close to the bank of Oukianos and whistled to the sprightly and iridescent fish of that crystal stream, and at other times he paused amidst the whispering rushes and gazed at the great dark wood on the farther side, whose trees came down clear to the water's edge. In former dreams he had seen quaint lumbering buopoths come shyly out of that wood to drink, but now he could not glimpse any. Once in a while he paused to watch a carnivorous fish catch a fishing bird, which it lured to the water by showing its tempting scales in the sun, and grasped by the beak with its enormous mouth as the winged hunter sought to dart down upon it.

Toward evening he mounted a low grassy rise and saw before him flaming in the sunset the thousand gilded spires of Thran. Lofty beyond belief are the alabaster walls of that incredible city, sloping inward toward the top and wrought in one solid piece by what means no man knows, for they are more ancient than memory. Yet lofty as they are with their hundred gates and two hundred turrets, the clustered towers within, all white beneath their golden spires, are loftier still; so that men on the plain around see them soaring into the sky, sometimes shining clear, sometimes caught at the top in tangles of cloud and mist, and sometimes clouded lower down with their utmost pinnacles blazing free above the vapours. And where Thran's gates open on the river are great wharves of marble, with ornate galleons of fragrant cedar and calamander riding gently at anchor, and strange bearded sailors sitting on casks and bales with the hieroglyphs of far places. Landward beyond the walls lies the farm country, where small white cottages dream between little hills, and narrow roads with many stone bridges wind gracefully among streams and gardens.

Down through this verdant land Carter walked at evening, and saw twilight float up from the river to the marvellous golden spires of Thran. And just at the hour of dusk he came to the southern gate, and was stopped by a red-robed sentry till he had told three dreams beyond belief, and proved himself a dreamer worthy to walk up Thran's steep mysterious streets and linger in the bazaars where the wares of the ornate galleons were sold. Then into that incredible city he walked; through a wall so thick that the gate was a tunnel, and thereafter amidst curved and undulant ways winding deep and narrow between the heavenward towers. Lights shone through grated and balconied windows, and,the sound of lutes and pipes stole timid from inner courts where marble fountains bubbled. Carter knew his way, and edged down through darker streets to the river, where at an old sea tavern he found the captains and seamen he had known in myriad other dreams. There he bought his passage to Celephais on a great green galleon, and there he stopped for the night after speaking gravely to the venerable cat of that inn, who blinked dozing before an enormous hearth and dreamed of old wars and forgotten gods.

In the morning Carter boarded the galleon bound for Celephais, and sat in the prow as the ropes were cast off and the long sail down to the Cerenerian Sea begun. For many leagues the banks were much as they were above Thran, with now and then a curious temple rising on the farther hills toward the right, and a drowsy village on the shore, with steep red roofs and nets spread in the sun. Mindful of his search, Carter questioned all the mariners closely about those whom they had met in the taverns of Celephais, asking the names and ways of the strange men with long, narrow eyes, long-lobed ears, thin noses, and pointed chins who came in dark ships from the north and traded onyx for the carved jade and spun gold and little red singing birds of Celephais. Of these men the sailors knew not much, save that they talked but seldom and spread a kind of awe about them.

Their land, very far away, was called Inquanok, and not many people cared to go thither because it was a cold twilight land, and said to be close to unpleasant Leng; although high impassable mountains towered on the side where Leng was thought to lie, so that none might say whether this evil plateau with its horrible stone villages and unmentionable monastery were really there, or whether the rumour were only a fear that timid people felt in the night when those formidable barrier peaks loomed black against a rising moon. Certainly, men reached Leng from very different oceans. Of other boundaries of Inquanok those sailors had no notion, nor had they heard of the cold waste and unknown Kadath save from vague unplaced report. And of the marvellous sunset city which Carter sought they knew nothing at all. So the traveller asked no more of far things, but bided his time till he might talk with those strange men from cold and twilight Inquanok who are the seed of such gods as carved their features on Ngranek.

Late in the day the galleon reached those bends of the river which traverse the perfumed jungles of Kied. Here Carter wished he might disembark, for in those tropic tangles sleep wondrous palaces of ivory, lone and unbroken, where once dwelt fabulous monarchs of a land whose name is forgotten. Spells of the Elder Ones keep those places unharmed and undecayed, for it is written that there may one day be need of them again; and elephant caravans have glimpsed them from afar by moonlight, though none dares approach them closely because of the guardians to which their wholeness is due. But the ship swept on, and dusk hushed the hum of the day, and the first stars above blinked answers to the early fireflies on the banks as that jungle fell far behind, leaving only its fragrance as a memory that it had been. And all through the night that galleon floated on past mysteries unseen and unsuspected. Once a lookout reported fires on the hills to the east, but the sleepy captain said they had better not be looked at too much, since it was highly uncertain just who or what had lit them.

In the morning the river had broadened out greatly, and Carter saw by the houses along the banks that they were close to the vast trading city of Hlanith on the Cerenerian Sea. Here the walls are of rugged granite, and the houses peakedly fantastic with beamed and plastered gables. The men of Hlanith are more like those of the waking world than any others in dreamland; so that the city is not sought except for barter, but is prized for the solid work of its artisans. The wharves of Hlanith are of oak, and there the galleon made fast while the captain traded in the taverns. Carter also went ashore, and looked curiously upon the rutted streets where wooden ox carts lumbered and feverish merchants cried their wares vacuously in the bazaars. The sea taverns were all close to the wharves on cobbled lanes salted with the spray of high tides, and seemed exceedingly ancient with their low black-beamed ceilings and casements of greenish bull's-eye panes. Ancient sailors in those taverns talked much of distant ports, and told many stories of the curious men from twilight Inquanok, but had little to add to what the seamen of the galleon had told. Then at last, after much unloading and loading, the ship set sail once more over the sunset sea, and the high walls and gables of Hlanith grew less as the last golden light of day lent them a wonder and beauty beyond any that men had given them.

Two nights and two days the galleon sailed over the Cerenerian Sea, sighting no land and speaking but one other vessel. Then near sunset of the second day there loomed up ahead the snowy peak of Aran with its gingko-trees swaying on the lower slope, and Carter knew that they were come to the land of Ooth-Nargai and the marvellous city of Celephais. Swiftly there came into sight the glittering minarets of that fabulous town, and the untarnished marble walls with their bronze statues, and the great stone bridge where Naraxa joins the sea. Then rose the gentle hills behind the town, with their groves and gardens of asphodels and the small shrines and cottages upon them; and far in the background the purple ridge of the Tanarians, potent and mystical, behind which lay forbidden ways into the waking world and toward other regions of dream.

The harbour was full of painted galleys, some of which were from the marble cloud-city of Serannian, that lies in ethereal space beyond where the sea meets the sky, and some of which were from more substantial parts of dreamland. Among these the steersman threaded his way up to the spice-fragrant wharves, where the galleon made fast in the dusk as the city's million lights began to twinkle out over the water. Ever new seemed this deathless city of vision, for here time has no power to tarnish or destroy. As it has always been is still the turquoise of Nath-Horthath, and the eighty orchid-wreathed priests are the same who builded it ten thousand years ago. Shining still is the bronze of the great gates, nor are the onyx pavements ever worn or broken. And the great bronze statues on the walls look down on merchants and camel drivers older than fable, yet without one grey hair in their forked beards.

Carter did not once seek out the temple or the palace or the citadel, but stayed by the seaward wall among traders and sailors. And when it was too late for rumours and legends he sought out an ancient tavern he knew well, and rested with dreams of the gods on unknown Kadath whom he sought. The next day he searched all along the quays for some of the strange mariners of Inquanok, but was told that none were now in port, their galley not being due from the north for full two weeks. He found, however, one Thorabonian sailor who had been to Inquanok and had worked in the onyx quarries of that twilight place; and this sailor said there was certainly a descent to the north of the peopled region, which everybody seemed to fear and shun. The Thorabonian opined that this desert led around the utmost rim of impassable peaks into Leng's horrible plateau, and that this was why men feared it; though he admitted there were other vague tales of evil presences and nameless sentinels. Whether or not this could be the fabled waste wherein unknown Kadath stands he did not know; but it seemed unlikely that those presences and sentinels, if indeed they existed, were stationed for nought.

On the following day Carter walked up the Street of the Pillars to the turquoise temple and talked with the High-Priest. Though Nath-Horthath is chiefly worshipped in Celephais, all the Great Ones are mentioned in diurnal prayers; and the priest was reasonably versed in their moods. Like Atal in distant Ulthar, he strongly advised against any attempts to see them; declaring that they are testy and capricious, and subject to strange protection from the mindless Other Gods from Outside, whose soul and messenger is the crawling chaos Nyarlathotep. Their jealous hiding of the marvellous sunset city shewed clearly that they did not wish Carter to reach it, and it was doubtful how they would regard a guest whose object was to see them and plead before them. No man had ever found Kadath in the past, and it might be just as well if none ever found it in the future. Such rumours as were told about that onyx castle of the Great Ones were not by any means reassuring.

Having thanked the orchid-crowned High-Priest, Carter left the temple and sought out the bazaar of the sheep-butchers, where the old chief of Celephais' cats dwelt sleek and contented. That grey and dignified being was sunning himself on the onyx pavement, and extended a languid paw as his caller approached. But when Carter repeated the passwords and introductions furnished him by the old cat general of Ulthar, the furry patriarch became very cordial and communicative; and told much of the secret lore known to cats on the seaward slopes of Ooth-Nargai. Best of all, he repeated several things told him furtively by the timid waterfront cats of Celephais about the men of Inquanok, on whose dark ships no cat will go.

It seems that these men have an aura not of earth about them, though that is not the reason why no cat will sail on their ships. The reason for this is that Inquanok holds shadows which no cat can endure, so that in all that cold twilight realm there is never a cheering purr or a homely mew. Whether it be because of things wafted over the impassable peaks from hypothetical Leng, or because of things filtering down from the chilly desert to the north, none may say; but it remains a fact that in that far land there broods a hint of outer space which cats do not like, and to which they are more sensitive than men. Therefore they will not go on the dark ships that seek the basalt quays of Inquanok.

The old chief of the cats also told him where to find his friend King Kuranes, who in Carter's latter dreams had reigned alternately in the rose-crystal Palace of the Seventy Delights at Celephais and in the turreted cloud-castle of sky-floating Serannian. It seemed that he could no more find content in those places, but had formed a mighty longing for the English cliffs and downlands of his boyhood; where in little dreaming villages England's old songs hover at evening behind lattice windows, and where grey church towers peep lovely through the verdure of distant valleys. He could not go back to these things in the waking world because his body was dead; but he had done the next best thing and dreamed a small tract of such countryside in the region east of the city where meadows roll gracefully up from the sea-cliffs to the foot of the Tanarian Hills. There he dwelt in a grey Gothic manor-house of stone looking on the sea, and tried to think it was ancient Trevor Towers, where he was born and where thirteen generations of his forefathers had first seen the light. And on the coast nearby he had built a little Cornish fishing village with steep cobbled ways, settling therein such people as had the most English faces, and seeking ever to teach them the dear remembered accents of old Cornwall fishers. And in a valley not far off he had reared a great Norman Abbey whose tower he could see from his window, placing around it in the churchyard grey stones with the names of his ancestors carved thereon, and with a moss somewhat like Old England's moss. For though Kuranes was a monarch in the land of dream, with all imagined pomps and marvels, splendours and beauties, ecstasies and delights, novelties and excitements at his command, he would gladly have resigned forever the whole of his power and luxury and freedom for one blessed day as a simple boy in that pure and quiet England, that ancient, beloved England which had moulded his being and of which he must always be immutably a part.

So when Carter bade that old grey chief of the cats adieu, he did not seek the terraced palace of rose crystal but walked out the eastern gate and across the daisied fields toward a peaked gable which he glimpsed through the oaks of a park sloping up to the sea-cliffs. And in time he came to a great hedge and a gate with a little brick lodge, and when he rang the bell there hobbled to admit him no robed and annointed lackey of the palace, but a small stubby old man in a smock who spoke as best he could in the quaint tones of far Cornwall. And Carter walked up the shady path between trees as near as possible to England's trees, and clumbed the terraces among gardens set out as in Queen Anne's time. At the door, flanked by stone cats in the old way, he was met by a whiskered butler in suitable livery; and was presently taken to the library where Kuranes, Lord of Ooth-Nargai and the Sky around Serannian, sat pensive in a chair by the window looking on his little seacoast village and wishing that his old nurse would come in and scold him because he was not ready for that hateful lawn-party at the vicar's, with the carriage waiting and his mother nearly out of patience.

Kuranes, clad in a dressing gown of the sort favoured by London tailors in his youth, rose eagerly to meet his guest; for the sight of an Anglo-Saxon from the waking world was very dear to him, even if it was a Saxon from Boston, Massachusetts, instead of from Cornwall. And for long they talked of old times, having much to say because both were old dreamers and well versed in the wonders of incredible places. Kuranes, indeed, had been out beyond the stars in the ultimate void, and was said to be the only one who had ever returned sane from such a voyage.

At length Carter brought up the subject of his quest, and asked of his host those questions he had asked of so many others. Kuranes did not know where Kadath was, or the marvellous sunset city; but he did know that the Great Ones were very dangerous creatures to seek out, and that the Other Gods had strange ways of protecting them from impertinent curiosity. He had learned much of the Other Gods in distant parts of space, especially in that region where form does not exist, and coloured gases study the innermost secrets. The violet gas S'ngac had told him terrible things of the crawling chaos Nyarlathotep, and had warned him never to approach the central void where the daemon sultan Azathoth gnaws hungrily in the dark.

Altogether, it was not well to meddle with the Elder Ones; and if they persistently denied all access to the marvellous sunset city, it were better not to seek that city.

Kuranes furthermore doubted whether his guest would profit aught by coming to the city even were he to gain it. He himself had dreamed and yearned long years for lovely Celephais and the land of Ooth-Nargai, and for the freedom and colour and high experience of life devoid of its chains, and conventions, and stupidities. But now that he was come into that city and that land, and was the king thereof, he found the freedom and the vividness all too soon worn out, and monotonous for want of linkage with anything firm in his feelings and memories. He was a king in Ooth-Nargai, but found no meaning therein, and drooped always for the old familiar things of England that had shaped his youth. All his kingdom would he give for the sound of Cornish church bells over the downs, and all the thousand minarets of Celephais for the steep homely roofs of the village near his home. So he told his guest that the unknown sunset city might not hold quite that content he sought, and that perhaps it had better remain a glorious and half-remembered dream. For he had visited Carter often in the old waking days, and knew well the lovely New England slopes that had given him birth.

At the last, he was very certain, the seeker would long only for the early remembered scenes; the glow of Beacon Hill at evening, the tall steeples and winding hill streets of quaint Kingsport, the hoary gambrel roofs of ancient and witch-haunted Arkham, and the blessed meads and valleys where stone walls rambled and white farmhouse gables peeped out from bowers of verdure. These things he told Randolph Carter, but still the seeker held to his purpose. And in the end they parted each with his own conviction, and Carter went back through the bronze gate into Celephais and down the Street of Pillars to the old sea wall, where he talked more with the mariners of far ports and waited for the dark ship from cold and twilight Inquanok, whose strange-faced sailors and onyx-traders had in them the blood of the Great Ones.

One starlit evening when the Pharos shone splendid over the harbour the longed-for ship put in, and strange-faced sailors and traders appeared one by one and group by group in the ancient taverns along the sea wall. It was very exciting to see again those living faces so like the godlike features of Ngranek, but Carter did not hasten to speak with the silent seamen. He did not know how much of pride and secrecy and dim supernal memory might fill those children of the Great Ones, and was sure it would not be wise to tell them of his quest or ask too closely of that cold desert stretching north of their twilight land. They talked little with the other folk in those ancient sea taverns; but would gather in groups in remote comers and sing among themselves the haunting airs of unknown places, or chant long tales to one another in accents alien to the rest of dreamland. And so rare and moving were those airs and tales that one might guess their wonders from the faces of those who listened, even though the words came to common ears only as strange cadence and obscure melody.

For a week the strange seamen lingered in the taverns and traded in the bazaars of Celephais, and before they sailed Carter had taken passage on their dark ship, telling them that he was an old onyx miner and wishful to work in their quarries. That ship was very lovey and cunningly wrought, being of teakwood with ebony fittings and traceries of gold, and the cabin in which the traveller lodged had hangings of silk and velvet. One morning at the turn of the tide the sails were raised and the anchor lilted, and as Carter stood on the high stern he saw the sunrise-blazing walls and bronze statues and golden minarets of ageless Celephais sink into the distance, and the snowy peak of Mount Man grow smaller and smaller. By noon there was nothing in sight save the gentle blue of the Cerenerian Sea, with one painted galley afar off bound for that realm of Serannian where the sea meets the sky.

And the night came with gorgeous stars, and the dark ship steered for Charles' Wain and the Little Bear as they swung slowly round the pole. And the sailors sang strange songs of unknown places, and they stole off one by one to the forecastle while the wistful watchers murmured old chants and leaned over the rail to glimpse the luminous fish playing in bowers beneath the sea. Carter went to sleep at midnight, and rose in the glow of a young morning, marking that the sun seemed farther south than was its wont. And all through that second day he made progress in knowing the men of the ship, getting them little by little to talk of their cold twilight land, of their exquisite onyx city, and of their fear of the high and impassable peaks beyond which Leng was said to be. They told him how sorry they were that no cats would stay in the land of Inquanok, and how they thought the hidden nearness of Leng was to blame for it. Only of the stony desert to the north they would not talk. There was something disquieting about that desert, and it was thought expedient not to admit its existence.

On later days they talked of the quarries in which Carter said he was going to work. There were many of them, for all the city of Inquanok was builded of onyx, whilst great polished blocks of it were traded in Rinar, Ogrothan, and Celephais and at home with the merchants of Thraa, Flarnek, and Kadatheron, for the beautiful wares of those fabulous ports. And far to the north, almost in the cold desert whose existence the men of Inquanok did not care to admit, there was an unused quarry greater than all the rest; from which had been hewn in forgotten times such prodigious lumps and blocks that the sight of their chiselled vacancies struck terror to all who beheld. Who had mined those incredible blocks, and whither they had been transported, no man might say; but it was thought best not to trouble that quarry, around which such inhuman memories might conceivably cling. So it was left all alone in the twilight, with only the raven and the rumoured Shantak-bird to brood on its immensities. when Carter heard of this quarry he was moved to deep thought, for he knew from old tales that the Great Ones' castle atop unknown Kadath is of onyx.

Each day the sun wheeled lower and lower in the sky, and the mists overhead grew thicker and thicker. And in two weeks there was not any sunlight at all, but only a weird grey twilight shining through a dome of eternal cloud by day, and a cold starless phosphorescence from the under side of that cloud by night. On the twentieth day a great jagged rock in the sea was sighted from afar, the first land glimpsed since Man's snowy peak had dwindled behind the ship. Carter asked the captain the name of that rock, but was told that it had no name and had never been sought by any vessel because of the sounds that came from it at night. And when, after dark, a dull and ceaseless howling arose from that jagged granite place, the traveller was glad that no stop had been made, and that the rock had no name. The seamen prayed and chanted till the noise was out of earshot, and Carter dreamed terrible dreams within dreams in the small hours.

Two mornings after that there loomed far ahead and to the east a line of great grey peaks whose tops were lost in the changeless clouds of that twilight world. And at the sight of them the sailors sang glad songs, and some knelt down on the deck to pray, so that Carter knew they were come to the land of Inquanok and would soon be moored to the basalt quays of the great town bearing that land's name. Toward noon a dark coastline appeared, and before three o'clock there stood out against the north the bulbous domes and fantastic spires of the onyx city. Rare and curious did that archaic city rise above its walls and quays, all of delicate black with scrolls, flutings, and arabesques of inlaid gold. Tall and many-windowed were the houses, and carved on every side with flowers and patterns whose dark symmetries dazzled the eye with a beauty more poignant than light. Some ended in swelling domes that tapered to a point, others in terraced pyramids whereon rose clustered minarets displaying every phase of strangeness and imagination. The walls were low, and pierced by frequent gates, each under a great arch rising high above the general level and capped by the head of a god chiselled with that same skill displayed in the monstrous face on distant Ngranek. On a hill in the centre rose a sixteen-angled tower greater than all the rest and bearing a high pinnacled belfry resting on a flattened dome. This, the seamen said, was the Temple of the Elder Ones, and was ruled by an old High-Priest sad with inner secrets.

At intervals the clang of a strange bell shivered over the onyx city, answered each time by a peal of mystic music made up of horns, viols, and chanting voices. And from a row of tripods on a galley round the high dome of the temple there burst flares of flame at certain moments; for the priests and people of that city were wise in the primal mysteries, and faithful in keeping the rhythms of the Great Ones as set forth in scrolls older than the Pnakotic Manuscripts. As the ship rode past the great basalt breakwater into the harbour the lesser noises of the city grew manifest, and Carter saw the slaves, sailors, and merchants on the docks. The sailors and merchants were of the strange-faced race of the gods, but the slaves were squat, slant-eyed folk said by rumour to have drifted somehow across or around the impassable peaks from the valleys beyond Leng. The wharves reached wide outside the city wall and bore upon them all manner of merchandise from the galleys anchored there, while at one end were great piles of onyx both carved and uncarved awaiting shipment to the far markets of Rinar, Ograthan and Celephais.

It was not yet evening when the dark ship anchored beside a jutting quay of stone, and all the sailors and traders filed ashore and through the arched gate into the city. The streets of that city were paved with onyx and some of them were wide and straight whilst others were crooked and narrow. The houses near the water were lower than the rest, and bore above their curiously arched doorways certain signs of gold said to be in honour of the respective small gods that favoured each. The captain of the ship took Carter to an old sea tavern where flocked the mariners of quaint countries, and promised that he would next day shew him the wonders of the twilight city, and lead him to the taverns of the onyx-miners by the northern wall. And evening fell, and little bronze lamps were lighted, and the sailors in that tavern sang songs of remote places. But when from its high tower the great bell shivered over the city, and the peal of the horns and viols and voices rose cryptical in answer thereto, all ceased their songs or tales and bowed silent till the. last echo died away. For there is a wonder and a strangeness on the twilight city of Inquanok, and men fear to be lax in its rites lest a doom and a vengeance lurk unsuspectedly close.

Far in the shadows of that tavern Carter saw a squat form he did not like, for it was unmistakably that of the old slant-eyed merchant he had seen so long before in the taverns of Dylath-Leen, who was reputed to trade with the horrible stone villages of Leng which no healthy folk visit and whose evil fires are seen at night from afar, and even to have dealt with that High-Priest Not To Be Described, which wears a yellow silken mask over its face and dwells all alone in a prehistoric stone monastery. This man had seemed to shew a queer gleam of knowing when Carter asked the traders of DylathLeen about the cold waste and Kadath; and somehow his presence in dark and haunted Inquanok, so close to the wonders of the north, was not a reassuring thing. He slipped wholly out of sight before Carter could speak to him, and sailors later said that he had come with a yak caravan from some point not well determined, bearing the colossal and rich-flavoured eggs of the rumoured Shantak-bird to trade for the dextrous jade goblets that merchants brought from Ilarnek.

On the following morning the ship-captain led Carter through the onyx streets of Inquanok, dark under their twilight sky. The inlaid doors and figured house-fronts, carven balconies and crystal-paned oriels all gleamed with a sombre and polished loveliness; and now and then a plaza would open out with black pillars, colonades, and the statues of curious beings both human and fabulous. Some of the vistas down long and unbending streets, or through side alleys and over bulbous domes, spires, and arabesqued roofs, were weird and beautiful beyond words; and nothing was more splendid than the massive heights of the great central Temple of the Elder Ones with its sixteen carven sides, its flattened dome, and its lofty pinnacled belfry, overtopping all else, and majestic whatever its foreground. And always to the east, far beyond the city walls and the leagues of pasture land, rose the gaunt grey sides of those topless and impassable peaks across which hideous Leng was said to lie.

The captain took Carter to the mighty temple, which is set with its walled garden in a great round plaza whence the streets go as spokes from a wheel's hub. The seven arched gates of that garden, each having over it a carven face like those on the city's gates, are always open, and the people roam reverently at will down the tiled paths and through the little lanes lined with grotesque termini and the shrines of modest gods. And there are fountains, pools, and basins there to reflect the frequent blaze of the tripods on the high balcony, all of onyx and having in them small luminous fish taken by divers from the lower bowers of ocean. When the deep clang from the temple belfry shivers over the garden and the city, and the answer of the horns and viols and voices peals out from the seven lodges by the garden gates, there issue from the seven doors of the temple long columns of masked and hooded priests in black, bearing at arm's length before them great golden bowls from which a curious steam rises. And all the seven columns strut peculiarly in single file, legs thrown far forward without bending the knees, down the walks that lead to the seven lodges, wherein they disappear and do not appear again. It is said that subterrene paths connect the lodges with the temple, and that the long files of priests return through them; nor is it unwhispered that deep flights of onyx steps go down to mysteries that are never told. But only a few are those who hint that the priests in the masked and hooded columns are not human beings.

Carter did not enter the temple, because none but the Veiled King is permitted to do that. But before he left the garden the hour of the bell came, and he heard the shivering clang deafening above him, and the wailing of the horns and viols and voices loud from the lodges by the gates. And down the seven great walks stalked the long files of bowl-bearing priests in their singular way, giving to the traveller a fear which human priests do not often give. When the last of them had vanished he left that garden, noting as he did so a spot on the pavement over which the bowls had passed. Even the ship-captain did not like that spot, and hurried him on toward the hill whereon the Veiled King's palace rises many-domed and marvellous.

The ways to the onyx palace are steep and narrow, all but the broad curving one where the king and his companions ride on yaks or in yak-drawn chariots. Carter and his guide climbed up an alley that was all steps, between inlaid walls hearing strange signs in gold, and under balconies and oriels whence sometimes floated soft strains of music or breaths of exotic fragrance. Always ahead loomed those titan walls, mighty buttresses, and clustered and bulbous domes for which the Veiled King's palace is famous; and at length they passed under a great black arch and emerged in the gardens of the monarch's pleasure. There Carter paused in faintness at so much beauty, for the onyx terraces and colonnaded walks, the gay porterres and delicate flowering trees espaliered to golden lattices, the brazen urns and tripods with cunning bas-reliefs, the pedestalled and almost breathing statues of veined black marble, the basalt-bottomed lagoon's tiled fountains with luminous fish, the tiny temples of iridescent singing birds atop carven columns, the marvellous scrollwork of the great bronze gates, and the blossoming vines trained along every inch of the polished walls all joined to form a sight whose loveliness was beyond reality, and half-fabulous even in the land of dreams. There it shimmered like a vision under that grey twilight sky, with the domed and fretted magnificence of the palace ahead, and the fantastic silhouette of the distant impassable peaks on the right. And ever the small birds and the fountains sang, while the perfume of rare blossoms spread like a veil over that incredible garden. No other human presence was there, and Carter was glad it was so. Then they turned and descended again the onyx alley of steps, for the palace itself no visitor may enter; and it is not well to look too long and steadily at the great central dome, since it is said to house the archaic father of all the rumoured Shantak-birds, and to send out queer dreams to the curious.

After that the captain took Carter to the north quarter of the town, near the Gate of the Caravans, where are the taverns of the yak-merchants and the onyx-miners. And there, in a low-ceiled inn of quarrymen, they said farewell; for business called the captain whilst Carter was eager to talk with miners about the north. There were many men in that inn, and the traveller was not long in speaking to some of them; saying that he was an old miner of onyx, and anxious to know somewhat of Inquanok's quarries. But all that he learned was not much more than he knew before, for the miners were timid and evasive about the cold desert to the north and the quarry that no man visits. They had fears of fabled emissaries from around the mountains where Leng is said to lie, and of evil presences and nameless sentinels far north among the scattered rocks. And they whispered also that the rumoured Shantak-birds are no wholesome things; it being. indeed for the best that no man has ever truly seen one (for that fabled father of Shantaks in the king's dome is fed in the dark).

The next day, saying that he wished to look over all the various mines for himself and to visit the scattered farms and quaint onyx villages of Inquanok, Carter hired a yak and stuffed great leathern saddle-bags for a journey. Beyond the Gate of the Caravans the road lay straight betwixt tilled fields, with many odd farmhouses crowned by low domes. At some of these houses the seeker stopped to ask questions; once finding a host so austere and reticent, and so full of an unplaced majesty like to that in the huge features on Ngranek, that he felt certain he had come at last upon one of the Great Ones themselves, or upon one with full nine-tenths of their blood, dwelling amongst men. And to that austere and reticent cotter he was careful to speak very well of the gods, and to praise all the blessings they had ever accorded him.

That night Carter camped in a roadside meadow beneath a great lygath-tree to which he tied his yak, and in the morning resumed his northward pilgrimage. At about ten o'clock he reached the small-domed village of Urg, where traders rest and miners tell their tales, and paused in its taverns till noon. It is here that the great caravan road turns west toward Selarn, but Carter kept on north by the quarry road. All the afternoon he followed that rising road, which was somewhat narrower than the great highway, and which now led through a region with more rocks than tilled fields. And by evening the low hills on his left had risen into sizable black cliffs, so that he knew he was close to the mining country. All the while the great gaunt sides of the impassable mountains towered afar off at his right, and the farther he went, the worse tales he heard of them from the scattered farmers and traders and drivers of lumbering onyx-carts along the way.

On the second night he camped in the shadow of a large black crag, tethering his yak to a stake driven in the ground. He observed the greater phosphorescence of the clouds at his northerly point, and more than once thought he saw dark shapes outlined against them. And on the third morning he came in sight of the first onyx quarry, and greeted the men who there laboured with picks and chisels. Before evening he had passed eleven quarries; the land being here given over altogether to onyx cliffs and boulders, with no vegetation at all, but only great rocky fragments scattered about a floor of black earth, with the grey impassable peaks always rising gaunt and sinister on his right. The third night he spent in a camp of quarry men whose flickering fires cast weird reflections on the polished cliffs to the west. And they sang many songs and told many tales, shewing such strange knowledge of the olden days and the habits of gods that Carter could see they held many latent memories of their sires the Great Ones. They asked him whither he went, and cautioned him not to go too far to the north; but he replied that he was seeking new cliffs of onyx, and would take no more risks than were common among prospectors. In the morning he bade them adieu and rode on into the darkening north, where they had warned him he would find the feared and unvisited quarry whence hands older than men's hands had wrenched prodigious blocks. But he did not like it when, turning back to wave a last farewell, he thought he saw approaching the camp that squat and evasive old merchant with slanting eyes, whose conjectured traffick with Leng was the gossip of distant Dylath-Leen.

After two more quarries the inhabited part of Inquanok seemed to end, and the road narrowed to a steeply rising yak-path among forbidding black cliffs. Always on the right towered the gaunt and distant peaks, and as Carter climbed farther and farther into this untraversed realm he found it grew darker and colder. Soon he perceived that there were no prints of feet or hooves on the black path beneath, and realised that he was indeed come into strange and deserted ways of elder time. Once in a while a raven would croak far overhead, and now and then a flapping behind some vast rock would make him think uncomfortably of the rumoured Shantak-bird. But in the main he was alone with his shaggy steed, and it troubled him to observe that this excellent yak became more and more reluctant to advance, and more and more disposed to snort affrightedly at any small noise along the route.

The path now contracted between sable and glistening walls, and began to display an even greater steepness than before. It was a bad footing, and the yak often slipped on the stony fragments strewn thickly about. In two hours Carter saw ahead a definite crest, beyond which was nothing but dull grey sky, and blessed the prospect of a level or downward course. To reach this crest, however, was no easy task; for the way had grown nearly perpendicular, and was perilous with loose black gravel and small stones. Eventually Carter dismounted and led his dubious yak; pulling very hard when the animal balked or stumbled, and keeping his own footing as best he might. Then suddenly he came to the top and saw beyond, and gasped at what he saw.

The path indeed led straight ahead and slightly down, with the same lines of high natural walls as before; but on the left hand there opened out a monstrous space, vast acres in extent, where some archaic power had riven and rent the native cliffs of onyx in the form of a giant's quarry. Far back into the solid precipice ran that cyclopean gouge, and deep down within earth's bowels its lower delvings yawned. It was no quarry of man, and the concave sides were scarred with great squares, yards wide, which told of the size of the blocks once hewn by nameless hands and chisels. High over its jagged rim huge ravens flapped and croaked, and vague whirrings in the unseen depths told of bats or urhags or less mentionable presences haunting the endless blackness. There Carter stood in the narrow way amidst the twilight with the rocky path sloping down before him; tall onyx cliffs on his right that led on as far as he could see and tall cliffs on the left chopped off just ahead to make that terrible and unearthly quarry.

All at once the yak uttered a cry and burst from his control, leaping past him and darting on in a panic till it vanished down the narrow slope toward the north. Stones kicked by its flying hooves fell over the brink of the quarry and lost themselves in the dark without any sound of striking bottom; but Carter ignored the perils of that scanty path as he raced breathlessly after the flying steed. Soon the left-behind cliffs resumed their course, making the way once more a narrow lane; and still the traveller leaped on after the yak whose great wide prints told of its desperate flight.

Once he thought he heard the hoofbeats of the frightened beast, and doubled his speed from this encouragement. He was covering miles, and little by little the way was broadening in front till he knew he must soon emerge on the cold and dreaded desert to the north. The gaunt grey flanks of the distant impassable peaks were again visible above the right-hand crags, and ahead were the rocks and boulders of an open space which was clearly a foretaste of the dark arid limitless plain. And once more those hoofbeats sounded in his ears, plainer than before, but this time giving terror instead of encouragement because he realised that they were not the frightened hoofbeats of his fleeing yak. The beats were ruthless and purposeful, and they were behind him.

Carter's pursuit of the yak became now a flight from an unseen thing, for though he dared not glance over his shoulder he felt that the presence behind him could be nothing wholesome or mentionable. His yak must have heard or felt it first, and he did not like to ask himself whether it had followed him from the haunts of men or had floundered up out of that black quarry pit. Meanwhile the cliffs had been left behind, so that the oncoming night fell over a great waste of sand and spectral rocks wherein all paths were lost. He could not see the hoofprints of his yak, but always from behind him there came that detestable clopping; mingled now and then with what he fancied were titanic flappings and whirrings. That he was losing ground seemed unhappily clear to him, and he knew he was hopelessly lost in this broken and blasted desert of meaningless rocks and untravelled sands. Only those remote and impassable peaks on the right gave him any sense of direction, and even they were less clear as the grey twilight waned and the sickly phosphorescence of the clouds took its place.

Then dim and misty in the darkling north before him he glimpsed a terrible thing. He had thought it for some moments a range of black mountains, but now he saw it was something more. The phosphorescence of the brooding clouds shewed it plainly, and even silhouetted parts of it as vapours glowed behind. How distant it was he could not tell, but it must have been very far. It was thousands of feet high, stretching in a great concave arc from the grey impassable peaks to the unimagined westward spaces, and had once indeed been a ridge of mighty onyx hills. But now these hills were hills no more, for some hand greater than man's had touched them. Silent they squatted there atop the world like wolves or ghouls, crowned with clouds and mists and guarding the secrets of the north forever. All in a great half circle they squatted, those dog-like mountains carven into monstrous watching statues, and their right hands were raised in menace against mankind.

It was only the flickering light of the clouds that made their mitred double heads seem to move, but as Carter stumbled on he saw arise from their shadowy caps great forms whose motions were no delusion. Winged and whirring, those forms grew larger each moment, and the traveller knew his stumbling was at an end. They were not any birds or bats known elsewhere on earth or in dreamland, for they were larger than elephants and had heads like a horse's. Carter knew that they must be the Shantak-birds of ill rumour, and wondered no more what evil guardians and nameless sentinels made men avoid the boreal rock desert. And as he stopped in final resignation he dared at last to look behind him, where indeed was trotting the squat slant-eyed trader of evil legend, grinning astride a lean yak and leading on a noxious horde of leering Shantaks to whose wings still clung the rime and nitre of the nether pits.

Trapped though he was by fabulous and hippocephalic winged nightmares that pressed around in great unholy circles, Randolph Carter did not lose consciousness. Lofty and horrible those titan gargoyles towered above him, while the slant-eyed merchant leaped down from his yak and stood grinning before the captive. Then the man motioned Carter to mount one of the repugnant Shantaks, helping him up as his judgement struggled with his loathing. It was hard work ascending, for the Shantak-bird has scales instead of feathers, and those scales are very slippery. Once he was seated, the slant-eyed man hopped up behind him, leaving the lean yak to be led away northward toward the ring of carven mountains by one of the incredible bird colossi.

There now followed a hideous whirl through frigid space, endlessly up and eastward toward the gaunt grey flanks of those impassable mountains beyond which Leng was said to be. Far above the clouds they flew, till at last there lay beneath them those fabled summits which the folk of Inquanok have never seen, and which lie always in high vortices of gleaming mist. Carter beheld them very plainly as they passed below, and saw upon their topmost peaks strange caves which made him think of those on Ngranek; but he did not question his captor about these things when he noticed that both the man and the horse-headed Shantak appeared oddly fearful of them, hurrying past nervously and shewing great tension until they were left far in the rear.

The Shantak now flew lower, revealing beneath the canopy of cloud a grey barren plain whereon at great distances shone little feeble fires. As they descended there appeared at intervals lone huts of granite and bleak stone villages whose tiny windows glowed with pallid light. And there came from those huts and villages a shrill droning of pipes and a nauseous rattle of crotala which proved at once that Inquanok's people are right in their geographic rumours. For travellers have heard such sounds before, and know that they float only from the cold desert plateau which healthy folk never visit; that haunted place of evil and mystery which is Leng.

Around the feeble fires dark forms were dancing, and Carter was curious as to what manner of beings they might be; for no healthy folk have ever been to Leng, and the place is known only by its fires and stone huts as seen from afar. Very slowly and awkwardly did those forms leap, and with an insane twisting and bending not good to behold; so that Carter did not wonder at the monstrous evil imputed to them by vague legend, or the fear in which all dreamland holds their abhorrent frozen plateau. As the Shantak flew lower, the repulsiveness of the dancers became tinged with a certain hellish familiarity; and the prisoner kept straining his eyes and racking his memory for clues to where he had seen such creatures before.

They leaped as though they had hooves instead of feet, and seemed to wear a sort of wig or headpiece with small horns. Of other clothing they had none, but most of them were quite furry. Behind they had dwarfish tails, and when they glanced upward he saw the excessive width of their mouths. Then he knew what they were, and that they did not wear any wigs or headpieces after all. For the cryptic folk of Leng were of one race with the uncomfortable merchants of the black galleys that traded rubies at Dylath-Leen; those not quite human merchants who are the slaves of the monstrous moon-things! They were indeed the same dark folk who had shanghaied Carter on their noisome galley so long ago, and whose kith he had seen driven in herds about the unclean wharves of that accursed lunar city, with the leaner ones toiling and the fatter ones taken away in crates for other needs of their polypous and amorphous masters. Now he saw where such ambiguous creatures came from, and shuddered at the thought that Leng must be known to these formless abominations from the moon.

But the Shantak flew on past the fires and the stone huts and the less than human dancers, and soared over sterile hills of grey granite and dim wastes of rock and ice and snow. Day came, and the phosphorescence of low clouds gave place to the misty twilight of that northern world, and still the vile bird winged meaningly through the cold and silence. At times the slant-eyed man talked with his steed in a hateful and guttural language, and the Shantak would answer with tittering tones that rasped like the scratching of ground glass. AlI this while the land was getting higher, and finally they came to a wind-swept table-land which seemed the very roof of a blasted and tenantless world. There, all alone in the hush and the dusk and the cold, rose the uncouth stones of a squat windowless building, around which a circle of crude monoliths stood. In all this arrangement there was nothing human, and Carter surmised from old tales that he was indeed come to that most dreadful and legendary of all places, the remote and prehistoric monastery wherein dwells uncompanioned the High-Priest Not To Be Described, which wears a yellow silken mask over its face and prays to the Other Gods and their crawling chaos Nyarlathotep.

The loathsome bird now settled to the ground, and the slant-eyed man hopped down and helped his captive alight. Of the purpose of his seizure Carter now felt very sure; for clearly the slant-eyed merchant was an agent of the darker powers, eager to drag before his masters a mortal whose presumption had aimed at the finding of unknown Kadath and the saying of a prayer before the faces of the Great Ones in their onyx castle. It seemed likely that this merchant had caused his former capture by the slaves of the moon-things in Dylath-Leen, and that he now meant to do what the rescuing cats had baffled; taking the victim to some dread rendezvous with monstrous Nyarlathotep and telling with what boldness the seeking of unknown Kadath had been tried. Leng and the cold waste north of Inquanok must be close to the Other Gods, and there the passes to Kadath are well guarded.

The slant-eyed man was small, but the great hippocephalic bird was there to see he was obeyed; so Carter followed where he led, and passed within the circle of standing rocks and into the low arched doorway of that windowless stone monastery. There were no lights inside, but the evil merchant lit a small clay lamp bearing morbid bas-reliefs and prodded his prisoner on through mazes of narrow winding corridors. On the walls of the corridors were printed frightful scenes older than history, and in a style unknown to the archaeologists of earth. After countless aeons their pigments were brilliant still, for the cold and dryness of hideous Leng keep alive many primal things. Carter saw them fleetingly in the rays of that dim and moving lamp, and shuddered at the tale they told.

Through those archaic frescoes Leng's annals stalked; and the horned, hooved, and wide-mouthed almost-humans danced evilly amidst forgotten cities. There were scenes of old wars, wherein Leng's almost-humans fought with the bloated purple spiders of the neighbouring vales; and there were scenes also of the coming of the black galleys from the moon, and of the submission of Leng's people to the polypous and amorphous blasphemies that hopped and floundered and wriggled out of them. Those slippery greyish-white blasphemies they worshipped as gods, nor ever complained when scores of their best and fatted males were taken away in the black galleys. The monstrous moon-beasts made their camp on a jagged isle in the sea, and Carter could tell from the frescoes that this was none other than the lone nameless rock he had seen when sailing to Inquanok; that grey accursed rock which Inquanok's seamen shun, and from which vile howlings reverberate all through the night.

And in those frescoes was shewn the great seaport and capital of the almost-humans; proud and pillared betwixt the cliffs and the basalt wharves, and wondrous with high fanes and carven places. Great gardens and columned streets led from the cliffs and from each of the six sphinx-crowned gates to a vast central plaza, and in that plaza was a pair of winged colossal lions guarding the top of a subterrene staircase. Again and again were those huge winged lions shewn, their mighty flanks of diarite glistening in the grey twilight of the day and the cloudy phosphorescence of the night. And as Carter stumbled past their frequent and repeated pictures it came to him at last what indeed they were, and what city it was that the almost-humans had ruled so anciently before the coming of the black galleys. There could be no mistake, for the legends of dreamland are generous and profuse. Indubitably that primal city was no less a place than storied Sarkomand, whose ruins had bleached for a million years before the first true human saw the light, and whose twin titan lions guard eternally the steps that lead down from dreamland to the Great Abyss.

Other views shewed the gaunt grey peaks dividing Leng from Inquanok, and the monstrous Shantak-birds that build nests on the ledges half way up. And they shewed likewise the curious caves near the very topmost pinnacles, and how even the boldest of the Shantaks fly screaming away from them. Carter had seen those caves when he passed over them, and had noticed their likeness to the caves on Ngranek. Now he knew that the likeness was more than a chance one, for in these pictures were shewn their fearsome denizens; and those bat-wings, curving horns, barbed tails, prehensile paws and rubbery bodies were not strange to him. He had met those silent, flitting and clutching creatures before; those mindless guardians of the Great Abyss whom even the Great Ones fear, and who own not Nyarlathotep but hoary Nodens as their lord. For they were the dreaded night-gaunts, who never laugh or smile because they have no faces, and who flop unendingly in the dark betwixt the Vale of Pnath and the passes to the outer world.

The slant-eyed merchant had now prodded Carter into a great domed space whose walls were carved in shocking bas-reliefs, and whose centre held a gaping circular pit surrounded by six malignly stained stone altars in a ring. There was no light in this vast evil-smelling crypt, and the small lamp of the sinister merchant shone so feebly that one could grasp details only little by little. At the farther end was a high stone dais reached by five steps; and there on a golden throne sat a lumpish figure robed in yellow silk figured with red and having a yellow silken mask over its face. To this being the slant-eyed man made certain signs with his hands, and the lurker in the dark replied by raising a disgustingly carven flute of ivory in silk-covered paws and blowing certain loathsome sounds from beneath its flowing yellow mask. This colloquy went on for some time, and to Carter there was something sickeningly familiar in the sound of that flute and the stench of the malodorous place. It made him think of a frightful red-litten city and of the revolting procession that once filed through it; of that, and of an awful climb through lunar countryside beyond, before the rescuing rush of earth's friendly cats. He knew that the creature on the dais was without doubt the High-Priest Not To Be Described, of which legend whispers such fiendish and abnormal possibilities, but he feared to think just what that abhorred High-Priest might be.

Then the figured silk slipped a trifle from one of the greyish-white paws, and Carter knew what the noisome High-Priest was. And in that hideous second, stark fear drove him to something his reason would never have dared to attempt, for in all his shaken consciousness there was room only for one frantic will to escape from what squatted on that golden throne. He knew that hopeless labyrinths of stone lay betwixt him and the cold table-land outside, and that even on that table-land the noxious Shantek still waited; yet in spite of all this there was in his mind only the instant need to get away from that wriggling, silk-robed monstrosity.

The slant-eyed man had set the curious lamp upon one of the high and wickedly stained altar-stones by the pit, and had moved forward somewhat to talk to the High-Priest with his hands. Carter, hitherto wholly passive, now gave that man a terrific push with all the wild strength of fear, so that the victim toppled at once into that gaping well which rumour holds to reach down to the hellish Vaults of Zin where Gugs hunt ghasts in the dark. In almost the same second he seized the lamp from the altar and darted out into the frescoed labyrinths, racing this way and that as chance determined and trying not to think of the stealthy padding of shapeless paws on the stones behind him, or of the silent wrigglings and crawlings which must be going on back there in lightless corridors.

After a few moments he regretted his thoughtless haste, and wished he had tried to follow backward the frescoes he had passed on the way in. True, they were so confused and duplicated that they could not have done him much good, but he wished none the less he had made the attempt. Those he now saw were even more horrible than those he had seen then, and he knew he was not in the corridors leading outside. In time he became quite sure he was not followed, and slackened his pace somewhat; but scarce had he breathed in half relief when a new peril beset him. His lamp was waning, and he would soon be in pitch blackness with no means of sight or guidance.

When the light was all gone he groped slowly in the dark, and prayed to the Great Ones for such help as they might afford. At times he felt the stone floor sloping up or down, and once he stumbled over a step for which no reason seemed to exist. The farther he went the damper it seemed to be, and when he was able to feel a junction or the mouth of a side passage he always chose the way which sloped downward the least. He believed, though, that his general course was down; and the vault-like smell and incrustations on the greasy walls and floor alike warned him he was burrowing deep in Leng's unwholesome table-land. But there was not any warning of the thing which came at last; only the thing itself with its terror and shock and breath-taking chaos. One moment he was groping slowly over the slippery floor of an almost level place, and the next he was shooting dizzily downward in the dark through a burrow which must have been well-nigh vertical.

Of the length of that hideous sliding he could never be sure, but it seemed to take hours of delirious nausea and ecstatic frenzy. Then he realized he was still, with the phosphorescent clouds of a northern night shining sickly above him. All around were crumbling walls and broken columns, and the pavement on which he lay was pierced by straggling grass and wrenched asunder by frequent shrubs and roots. Behind him a basalt cliff rose topless and perpendicular; its dark side sculptured into repellent scenes, and pierced by an arched and carven entrance to the inner blacknesses out of which he had come. Ahead stretched double rows of pillars, and the fragments and pedestals of pillars, that spoke of a broad and bygone street; and from the urns and basins along the way he knew it had been a great street of gardens. Far off at its end the pillars spread to mark a vast round plaza, and in that open circle there loomed gigantic under the lurid night clouds a pair of monstrous things. Huge winged lions of diarite they were, with blackness and shadow between them. Full twenty feet they reared their grotesque and unbroken heads, and snarled derisive on the ruins around them. And Carter knew right well what they must be, for legend tells of only one such twain. They were the changeless guardians of the Great Abyss, and these dark ruins were in truth primordial Sarkomand.

Carter's first act was to close and barricade the archway in the cliff with fallen blocks and odd debris that lay around. He wished no follower from Leng's hateful monastery, for along the way ahead would lurk enough of other dangers. Of how to get from Sarkomand to the peopled parts of dreamland he knew nothing at all; nor could he gain much by descending to the grottoes of the ghouls, since he knew they were no better informed than he. The three ghouls which had helped him through the city of Gugs to the outer world had not known how to reach Sarkomand in their journey back, but had planned to ask old traders in Dylath-Leen. He did not like to think of going again to the subterrene world of Gugs and risking once more that hellish tower of Koth with its Cyclopean steps leading to the enchanted wood, yet he felt he might have to try this course if all else failed. Over Leng's plateau past the lone monastery he dared not go unaided; for the High-Priest's emissaries must be many, while at the journey's end there would no doubt be the Shantaks and perhaps other things to deal with. If he could get a boat he might sail back to Inquanok past the jagged and hideous rock in the sea, for the primal frescoes in the monastery labyrinth had shewn that this frightful place lies not far from Sarkomand's basalt quays. But to find a boat in this aeon-deserted city was no probable thing, and it did not appear likely that he could ever make one.

Such were the thoughts of Randolph Carter when a new impression began beating upon his mind. All this while there had stretched before him the great corpse-like width of fabled Sarkomand with its black broken pillars and crumbling sphinx-crowned gates and titan stones and monstrous winged lions against the sickly glow of those luminous night clouds. Now he saw far ahead and on the right a glow that no clouds could account for, and knew he was not alone in the silence of that dead city. The glow rose and fell fitfully, flickering with a greenish tinge which did not reassure the watcher. And when he crept closer, down the littered street and through some narrow gaps between tumbled walls, he perceived that it was a campfire near the wharves with many vague forms clustered darkly around it; and a lethal odour hanging heavily over all. Beyond was the oily lapping of the harbour water with a great ship riding at anchor, and Carter paused in stark terror when he saw that the ship was indeed one of the dreaded black galleys from the moon.

Then, just as he was about to creep back from that detestable flame, he saw a stirring among the vague dark forms and heard a peculiar and unmistakable sound. It was the frightened meeping of a ghoul, and in a moment it had swelled to a veritable chorus of anguish. Secure as he was in the shadow of monstrous ruins, Carter allowed his curiosity to conquer his fear, and crept forward again instead of retreating. Once in crossing an open street he wriggled worm-like on his stomach, and in another place he had to rise to his feet to avoid making a noise among heaps of fallen marble. But always he succeeded in avoiding discovery, so that in a short time he had found a spot behind a titan pillar where he could watch the whole green-litten scene of action. There around a hideous fire fed by the obnoxious stems of lunar fungi, there squatted a stinking circle of the toadlike moonbeasts and their almost-human slaves. Some of these slaves were heating curious iron spears in the leaping flames, and at intervals applying their white-hot points to three tightly trussed prisoners that lay writhing before the leaders of the party. From the motions of their tentacles Carter could see that the blunt-snouted moonbeasts were enjoying the spectacle hugely, and vast was his horror when he suddenly recognised the frantic meeping and knew that the tortured ghouls were none other than the faithful trio which had guided him safely from the abyss, and had thereafter set out from the enchanted wood to find Sarkomand and the gate to their native deeps.

The number of malodorous moonbeasts about that greenish fire was very great, and Carter saw that he could do nothing now to save his former allies. Of how the ghouls had been captured he could not guess; but fancied that the grey toadlike blasphemies had heard them inquire in Dylath-Leen concerning the way to Sarkomand and had not wished them to approach so closely the hateful plateau of Leng and the High-Priest Not To Be Described. For a moment he pondered on what he ought to do, and recalled how near he was to the gate of the ghouls' black kingdom. Clearly it was wisest to creep east to the plaza of twin lions and descend at once to the gulf, where assuredly he would meet no horrors worse than those above, and where he might soon find ghouls eager to rescue their brethren and perhaps to wipe out the moonbeasts from the black galley. It occurred to him that the portal, like other gates to the abyss, might be guarded by flocks of night-gaunts; but he did not fear these faceless creatures now. He had learned that they are bound by solemn treaties with the ghouls, and the ghoul which was Pickman had taught him how to glibber a password they understood.

So Carter began another silent crawl through the ruins, edging slowly toward the great central plaza and the winged lions. It was ticklish work, but the moonbeasts were pleasantly busy and did not hear the slight noises which he twice made by accident among the scattered stones. At last he reached the open space and picked his way among the stunned trees and vines that had grown up therein. The gigantic lions loomed terrible above him in the sickly glow of the phosphorescent night clouds, but he manfully persisted toward them and presently crept round to their faces, knowing it was on that side he would find the mighty darkness which they guard. Ten feet apart crouched the mocking-faced beasts of diarite, brooding on cyclopean pedestals whose sides were chiselled in fearsome bas-reliefs. Betwixt them was a tiled court with a central space which had once been railed with balusters of onyx. Midway in this space a black well opened, and Carter soon saw that he had indeed reached the yawning gulf whose crusted and mouldy stone steps lead down to the crypts of nightmare.

Terrible is the memory of that dark descent in which hours wore themselves away whilst Carter wound sightlessly round and round down a fathomless spiral of steep and slippery stairs. So worn and narrow were the steps, and so greasy with the ooze of inner earth, that the climber never quite knew when to expect a breathless fall and hurtling down to the ultimate pits; and he was likewise uncertain just when or how the guardian night-gaunts would suddenly pounce upon him, if indeed there were any stationed in this primeval passage. All about him was a stifling odour of nether gulfs, and he felt that the air of these choking depths was not made for mankind. In time he became very numb and somnolent, moving more from automatic impulse than from reasoned will; nor did he realize any change when he stopped moving altogether as something quietly seized him from behind. He was flying very rapidly through the air before a malevolent tickling told him that the rubbery night-gaunts had performed their duty.

Awaked to the fact that he was in the cold, damp clutch of the faceless flutterers, Carter remembered the password of the ghouls and glibbered it as loudly as he could amidst the wind and chaos of flight. Mindless though night-gaunts are said to be, the effect was instantaneous; for all tickling stopped at once, and the creatures hastened to shift their captive to a more comfortable position. Thus encouraged Carter ventured some explanations; telling of the seizure and torture of three ghouls by the moonbeasts, and of the need of assembling a party to rescue them. The night-gaunts, though inarticulate, seemed to understand what was said; and shewed greater haste and purpose in their flight. Suddenly the dense blackness gave place to the grey twilight of inner earth, and there opened up ahead one of those flat sterile plains on which ghouls love to squat and gnaw. Scattered tombstones and osseous fragments told of the denizens of that place; and as Carter gave a loud meep of urgent summons, a score of burrows emptied forth their leathery, dog-like tenants. The night-gaunts now flew low and set their passenger upon his feet, afterward withdrawing a little and forming a hunched semicircle on the ground while the ghouls greeted the newcomer.

Carter glibbered his message rapidly and explicitly to the grotesque company, and four of them at once departed through different burrows to spread the news to others and gather such troops as might be available for a rescue. After a long wait a ghoul of some importance appeared, and made significant signs to the night-gaunts, causing two of the latter to fly off into the dark. Thereafter there were constant accessions to the hunched flock of night-gaunts on the plain, till at length the slimy soil was fairly black with them. Meanwhile fresh ghouls crawled out of the burrows one by one, all glibbering excitedly and forming in crude battle array not far from the huddled night-gaunts. In time there appeared that proud and influential ghoul which was once the artist Richard Pickman of Boston, and to him Carter glibbered a very full account of what had occurred. The erstwhile Pickman, pleased to greet his ancient friend again, seemed very much impressed, and held a conference with other chiefs a little apart from the growing throng.

Finally, after scanning the ranks with care, the assembled chiefs all meeped in unison and began glibbering orders to the crowds of ghouls and night-gaunts. A large detachment of the horned flyers vanished at once, while the rest grouped themselves two by two on their knees with extended forelegs, awaiting the approach of the ghouls one by one. As each ghoul reached the pair of night-gaunts to which he was assigned, he was taken up and borne away into the blackness; till at last the whole throng had vanished save for Carter, Pickman, and the other chiefs, and a few pairs of night-gaunts. Pickman explained that night-gaunts are the advance guard and battle steeds of the ghouls, and that the army was issuing forth to Sarkomand to deal with the moonbeasts. Then Carter and the ghoulish chiefs approached the waiting bearers and were taken up by the damp, slippery paws. Another moment and all were whirling in wind and darkness; endlessly up, up, up to the gate of the winged and the special ruins of primal Sarkomand.

When, after a great interval, Carter saw again the sickly light of Sarkomand's nocturnal sky, it was to behold the great central plaza swarming with militant ghouls and night-gaunts. Day, he felt sure, must be almost due; but so strong was the army that no surprise of the enemy would be needed. The greenish flare near the wharves still glimmered faintly, though the absence of ghoulish meeping shewed that the torture of the prisoners was over for the nonce. Softly glibbering directions to their steeds and to the flock of riderless night-gaunts ahead, the ghouls presently rose in wide whirring columns and swept on over the bleak ruins toward the evil flame. Carter was now beside Pickman in the front rank of ghouls, and saw as they approached the noisome camp that the moonbeasts were totally unprepared. The three prisoners lay bound and inert beside the fire, while their toadlike captors slumped drowsily about in no certain order. The almost-human slaves were asleep, even the sentinels shirking a duty which in this realm must have seemed to them merely perfunctory.

The final swoop of the night-gaunts and mounted ghouls was very sudden, each of the greyish toadlike blasphemies and their almost-human slaves being seized by a group of night-gaunts before a sound was made. The moonbeasts, of course, were voiceless; and even the slaves had little chance to scream before rubbery paws choked them into silence. Horrible were the writhings of those great jellyfish abnormalities as the sardonic night-gaunts clutched them, but nothing availed against the strength of those black prehensile talons. When a moonbeast writhed too violently, a night-gaunt would seize and pull its quivering pink tentacles; which seemed to hurt so much that the victim would cease its struggles. Carter expected to see much slaughter, but found that the ghouls were far subtler in their plans. They glibbered certain simple orders to the night-gaunts which held the captives, trusting the rest to instinct; and soon the hapless creatures were borne silently away into the Great Abyss, to be distributed impartially amongst the Dholes, Gugs, ghasts and other dwellers in darkness whose modes of nourishment are not painless to their chosen victims. Meanwhile the three bound ghouls had been released and consoled by their conquering kinsfolk, whilst various parties searched the neighborhood for possible remaining moonbeasts, and boarded the evil-smelling black galley at the wharf to make sure that nothing had escaped the general defeat. Surely enough, the capture had been thorough, for not a sign of further life could the victors detect. Carter, anxious to preserve a means of access to the rest of dreamland, urged them not to sink the anchored galley; and this request was freely granted out of gratitude for his act in reporting the plight of the captured trio. On the ship were found some very curious objects and decorations, some of which Carter cast at once into the sea.

Ghouls and night-gaunts now formed themselves in separate groups, the former questioning their rescued fellow anent past happenings. It appeared that the three had followed Carter's directions and proceeded from the enchanted wood to Dylath-Leen by way of Nir and the Skin, stealing human clothes at a lonely farmhouse and loping as closely as possible in the fashion of a man's walk. In Dylath-Leen's taverns their grotesque ways and faces had aroused much comment; but they had persisted in asking the way to Sarkomand until at last an old traveller was able to tell them. Then they knew that only a ship for Lelag-Leng would serve their purpose, and prepared to wait patiently for such a vessel.

But evil spies had doubtless reported much; for shortly a black galley put into port, and the wide-mouthed ruby merchants invited the ghouls to drink with them in a tavern. Wine was produced from one of those sinister bottles grotesquely carven from a single ruby, and after that the ghouls found themselves prisoners on the black galley as Carter had found himself. This time, however, the unseen rowers steered not for the moon but for antique Sarkomand; bent evidently on taking their captives before the High-Priest Not To Be Described. They had touched at the jagged rock in the northern sea which Inquanok's mariners shun, and the ghouls had there seen for the first time the red masters of the ship; being sickened despite their own callousness by such extremes of malign shapelessness and fearsome odour. There, too, were witnessed the nameless pastimes of the toadlike resident garrison-such pastimes as give rise to the night-howlings which men fear. After that had come the landing at ruined Sarkomand and the beginning of the tortures, whose continuance the present rescue had prevented.

Future plans were next discussed, the three rescued ghouls suggesting a raid on the jagged rock and the extermination of the toadlike garrison there. To this, however, the night-gaunts objected; since the prospect of flying over water did not please them. Most of the ghouls favoured the design, but were at a loss how to follow it without the help of the winged night-gaunts. Thereupon Carter, seeing that they could not navigate the anchored galley, offered to teach them the use of the great banks of oars; to which proposal they eagerly assented. Grey day had now come, and under that leaden northern sky a picked detachment of ghouls filed into the noisome ship and took their seats on the rowers' benches. Carter found them fairly apt at learning, and before night had risked several experimental trips around the harbour. Not till three days later, however, did he deem it safe to attempt the voyage of conquest. Then, the rowers trained and the night-gaunts safely stowed in the forecastle, the party set sail at last; Pickman and the other chiefs gathering on deck and discussing models of approach and procedure.

On the very first night the howlings from the rock were heard. Such was their timbre that all the galley's crew shook visibly; but most of all trembled the three rescued ghouls who knew precisely what those howlings meant. It was not thought best to attempt an attack by night, so the ship lay to under the phosphorescent clouds to wait for the dawn of a greyish day. when the light was ample and the howlings still the rowers resumed their strokes, and the galley drew closer and closer to that jagged rock whose granite pinnacles clawed fantastically at the dull sky. The sides of the rock were very steep; but on ledges here and there could be seen the bulging walls of queer windowless dwellings, and the low railings guarding travelled highroads. No ship of men had ever come so near the place, or at least, had never come so near and departed again; but Carter and the ghouls were void of fear and kept inflexibly on, rounding the eastern face of the rock and seeking the wharves which the rescued trio described as being on the southern side within a harbour formed of steep headlands.

The headlands were prolongations of the island proper, and came so closely together that only one ship at a time might pass between them. There seemed to be no watchers on the outside, so the galley was steered boldly through the flume-like strait and into the stagnant putrid harbour beyond. Here, however, all was bustle and activity; with several ships lying at anchor along a forbidding stone quay, and scores of almost-human slaves and moonbeasts by the waterfront handling crates and boxes or driving nameless and fabulous horrors hitched to lumbering lorries. There was a small stone town hewn out of the vertical cliff above the wharves, with the start of a winding road that spiralled out of sight toward higher ledges of the rock. Of what lay inside that prodigious peak of granite none might say, but the things one saw on the outside were far from encouraging.

At sight of the incoming galley the crowds on the wharves displayed much eagerness; those with eyes staring intently, and those without eyes wriggling their pink tentacles expectantly. They did not, of course, realize that the black ship had changed hands; for ghouls look much like the horned and hooved almost-humans, and the night-gaunts were all out of sight below. By this time the leaders had fully formed a plan; which was to loose the night-gaunts as soon as the wharf was touched, and then to sail directly away, leaving matters wholly to the instincts of those almost-mindless creatures. Marooned on the rock, the horned flyers would first of all seize whatever living things they found there, and afterward, quite helpless to think except in terms of the homing instinct, would forget their fears of water and fly swiftly back to the abyss; bearing their noisome prey to appropriate destinations in the dark, from which not much would emerge alive.

The ghoul that was Pickman now went below and gave the night-gaunts their simple instructions, while the ship drew very near to the ominous and malodorous wharves. Presently a fresh stir rose along the waterfront, and Carter saw that the motions of the galley had begun to excite suspicion. Evidently the steersman was not making for the right dock, and probably the watchers had noticed the difference between the hideous ghouls and the almost-human slaves whose places they were taking. Some silent alarm must have been given, for almost at once a horde of the mephitic moonbeasts began to pour from the little black doorways of the windowless houses and down the winding road at the right. A rain of curious javelins struck the galley as the prow hit the wharf felling two ghouls and slightly wounding another; but at this point all the hatches were thrown open to emit a black cloud of whirring night-gaunts which swarmed over the town like a flock of horned and cyclopean bats.

The jellyish moonbeasts had procured a great pole and were trying to push off the invading ship, but when the night-gaunts struck them they thought of such things no more. It was a very terrible spectacle to see those faceless and rubbery ticklers at their pastime, and tremendously impressive to watch the dense cloud of them spreading through the town and up the winding roadway to the reaches above. Sometimes a group of the black flutterers would drop a toadlike prisoner from aloft by mistake, and the manner in which the victim would burst was highly offensive to the sight and smell. When the last of the night-gaunts had left the galley the ghoulish leaders glibbered an order of withdrawal, and the rowers pulled quietly out of the harbour between the grey headlands while still the town was a chaos of battle and conquest.

The Pickman ghoul allowed several hours for the night-gaunts to make up their rudimentary minds and overcome their fear of flying over the sea, and kept the galley standing about a mile off the jagged rock while he waited, and dressed the wounds of the injured men. Night fell, and the grey twilight gave place to the sickly phosphorescence of low clouds, and all the while the leaders watched the high peaks of that accursed rock for signs of the night-gaunts' flight. Toward morning a black speck was seen hovering timidly over the top-most pinnacle, and shortly afterward the speck had become a swarm. Just before daybreak the swarm seemed to scatter, and within a quarter of an hour it had vanished wholly in the distance toward the northeast. Once or twice something seemed to fall from the thing swarm into the sea; but Carter did not worry, since he knew from observation that the toadlike moonbeasts cannot swim. At length, when the ghouls were satisfied that all the night-gaunts had left for Sarkomand and the Great Abyss with their doomed burdens, the galley put back into the harbour betwixt the grey headlands; and all the hideous company landed and roamed curiously over the denuded rock with its towers and eyries and fortresses chiselled from the solid stone.

Frightful were the secrets uncovered in those evil and windowless crypts; for the remnants of unfinished pastimes were many, and in various stages of departure from their primal state. Carter put out of the way certain things which were after a fashion alive, and fled precipitately from a few other things about which he could not be very positive. The stench-filled houses were furnished mostly with grotesque stools and benches carven from moon-trees, and were painted inside with nameless and frantic designs. Countless weapons, implements, and ornaments lay about, including some large idols of solid ruby depicting singular beings not found on the earth. These latter did not, despite their material, invite either appropriation or long inspection; and Carter took the trouble to hammer five of them into very small pieces. The scattered spears and javelins he collected, and with Pickman's approval distributed among the ghouls. Such devices were new to the doglike lopers, but their relative simplicity made them easy to master after a few concise hints.

The upper parts of the rock held more temples than private homes, and in numerous hewn chambers were found terrible carven altars and doubtfully stained fonts and shrines for the worship of things more monstrous than the wild gods atop Kadath. From the rear of one great temple stretched a low black passage which Carter followed far into the rock with a torch till he came to a lightless domed hall of vast proportions, whose vaultings were covered with demoniac carvings and in whose centre yawned a foul and bottomless well like that in the hideous monastery of Leng where broods alone the High-Priest Not To Be Described. On the distant shadowy side, beyond the noisome well, he thought he discerned a small door of strangely wrought bronze; but for some reason he felt an unaccountable dread of opening it or even approaching it, and hastened back through the cavern to his unlovely allies as they shambled about with an ease and abandon he could scarcely feel. The ghouls had observed the unfinished pastimes of the moonbeasts, and had profited in their fashion. They had also found a hogshead of potent moon-wine, and were rolling it down to the wharves for removal and later use in diplomatic dealings, though the rescued trio, remembering its effect on them in Dylath-Leen, had warned their company to taste none of it. Of rubies from lunar mines there was a great store, both rough and polished, in one of the vaults near the water; but when the ghouls found they were not good to eat they lost all interest in them. Carter did not try to carry any away, since he knew too much about those which had mined them.

Suddenly there came an excited meeping from the sentries on the wharves, and all the loathsome foragers turned from their tasks to stare seaward and cluster round the waterfront. Betwixt the grey headlands a fresh black galley was rapidly advancing, and it would be but a moment before the almost-humans on deck would perceive the invasion of the town and give the alarm to the monstrous things below. Fortunately the ghouls still bore the spears and javelins which Carter had distributed amongst them; and at his command, sustained by the being that was Pickman, they now formed a line of battle and prepared to prevent the landing of the ship. Presently a burst of excitement on the galley told of the crew's discovery of the changed state of things, and the instant stoppage of the vessel proved that the superior numbers of the ghouls had been noted and taken into account. After a moment of hesitation the new comers silently turned and passed out between the headlands again, but not for an instant did the ghouls imagine that the conflict was averted. Either the dark ship would seek reinforcements or the crew would try to land elsewhere on the island; hence a party of scouts was at once sent up toward the pinnacle to see what the enemy's course would be.

In a very few minutes the ghoul returned breathless to say that the moonbeasts and almost-humans were landing on the outside of the more easterly of the rugged grey headlands, and ascending by hidden paths and ledges which a goat could scarcely tread in safety. Almost immediately afterward the galley was sighted again through the flume-like strait, but only for a second. Then a few moments later, a second messenger panted down from aloft to say that another party was landing on the other headland; both being much more numerous than the size of the galley would seem to allow for. The ship itself, moving slowly with only one sparsely manned tier of oars, soon hove in sight betwixt the cliffs, and lay to in the foetid harbour as if to watch the coming fray and stand by for any possible use.

By this time Carter and Pickman had divided the ghouls into three parties, one to meet each of the two invading columns and one to remain in the town. The first two at once scrambled up the rocks in their respective directions, while the third was subdivided into a land party and a sea party. The sea party, commanded by Carter, boarded the anchored galley and rowed out to meet the under-manned galley of the newcomers; whereat the latter retreated through the strait to the open sea. Carter did not at once pursue it, for he knew he might be needed more acutely near the town.

Meanwhile the frightful detachments of the moonbeasts and almost-humans had lumbered up to the top of the headlands and were shockingly silhouetted on either side against the grey twilight sky. The thin hellish flutes of the invaders had now begun to whine, and the general effect of those hybrid, half-amorphous processions was as nauseating as the actual odour given off by the toadlike lunar blasphemies. Then the two parties of the ghouls swarmed into sight and joined the silhouetted panorama. Javelins began to fly from both sides, and the swelling meeps of the ghouls and the bestial howls of the almost-humans gradually joined the hellish whine of the flutes to form a frantick and indescribable chaos of daemon cacophony. Now and then bodies fell from the narrow ridges of the headlands into the sea outside or the harbour inside, in the latter case being sucked quickly under by certain submarine lurkers whose presence was indicated only by prodigious bubbles.

For half an hour this dual battle raged in the sky, till upon the west cliff the invaders were completely annihilated. On the east cliff, however, where the leader of the moonbeast party appeared to be present, the ghouls had not fared so well; and were slowly retreating to the slopes of the pinnacle proper. Pickman had quickly ordered reinforcements for this front from the party in the town, and these had helped greatly in the earlier stages of the combat. Then, when the western battle was over, the victorious survivors hastened across to the aid of their hard-pressed fellows; turning the tide and forcing the invaders back again along the narrow ridge of the headland. The almost-humans were by this time all slain, but the last of the toadlike horrors fought desperately with the great spears clutched in their powerful and disgusting paws. The time for javelins was now nearly past, and the fight became a hand-to-hand contest of what few spearmen could meet upon that narrow ridge.

As fury and recklessness increased, the number falling into the sea became very great. Those striking the harbour met nameless extinction from the unseen bubblers, but of those striking the open sea some were able to swim to the foot of the cliffs and land on tidal rocks, while the hovering galley of the enemy rescued several moonbeasts. The cliffs were unscalable except where the monsters had debarked, so that none of the ghouls on the rocks could rejoin their battle-line. Some were killed by javelins from the hostile galley or from the moonbeasts above, but a few survived to be rescued. When the security of the land parties seemed assured, Carter's galley sallied forth between the headlands and drove the hostile ship far out to sea; pausing to rescue such ghouls as were on the rocks or still swimming in the ocean. Several moonbeasts washed on rocks or reefs were speedily put out of the way.

Finally, the moonbeast galley being safely in the distance and the invading land army concentrated in one place, Carter landed a considerable force on the eastern headland in the enemy's rear; after which the fight was short-lived indeed. Attacked from both sides, the noisome flounderers were rapidly cut to pieces or pushed into the sea, till by evening the ghoulish chiefs agreed that the island was again clear of them. The hostile galley, meanwhile, had disappeared; and it was decided that the evil jagged rock had better be evacuated before any overwhelming horde of lunar horrors might be assembled and brought against the victors.

So by night Pickman and Carter assembled all the ghouls and counted them with care, finding that over a fourth had been lost in the day's battles. The wounded were placed on bunks in the galley, for Pickman always discouraged the old ghoulish custom of killing and eating one's own wounded, and the able-bodied troops were assigned to the oars or to such other places as they might most usefully fill. Under the low phosphorescent clouds of night the galley sailed, and Carter was not sorry to be departing from the island of unwholesome secrets, whose lightless domed hall with its bottomless well and repellent bronze door lingered restlessly in his fancy. Dawn found the ship in sight of Sarkomand's ruined quays of basalt, where a few night-gaunt sentries still waited, squatting like black horned gargoyles on the broken columns and crumbling sphinxes of that fearful city which lived and died before the years of man.

The ghouls made camp amongst the fallen stones of Sarkomand, despatching a messenger for enough night-gaunts to serve them as steeds. Pickman and the other chiefs were effusive in their gratitude for the aid Carter had lent them. Carter now began to feel that his plans were indeed maturing well, and that he would be able to command the help of these fearsome allies not only in quitting this part of dreamland, but in pursuing his ultimate quest for the gods atop unknown Kadath, and the marvellous sunset city they so strangely withheld from his slumbers. Accordingly he spoke of these things to the ghoulish leaders; telling what he knew of the cold waste wherein Kadath stands and of the monstrous Shantaks and the mountains carven into double-headed images which guard it. He spoke of the fear of Shantaks for night-gaunts, and of how the vast hippocephalic birds fly screaming from the black burrows high up on the gaunt grey peaks that divide Inquanok from hateful Leng. He spoke, too, of the things he had learned concerning night-gaunts from the frescoes in the windowless monastery of the High-Priest Not To Be Described; how even the Great Ones fear them, and how their ruler is not the crawling chaos Nyarlathotep at all, but hoary and immemorial Nodens, Lord of the Great Abyss.

All these things Carter glibbered to the assembled ghouls, and presently outlined that request which he had in mind and which he did not think extravagant considering the services he had so lately rendered the rubbery doglike lopers. He wished very much, he said, for the services of enough night-gaunts to bear him safely through the aft past the realm of Shantaks and carven mountains, and up into the old waste beyond the returning tracks of any other mortal. He desired to fly to the onyx castle atop unknown Kadath in the cold waste to plead with the Great Ones for the sunset city they denied him, and felt sure that the night-gaunts could take him thither without trouble; high above the perils of the plain, and over the hideous double heads of those carven sentinel mountains that squat eternally in the grey dusk. For the horned and faceless creatures there could be no danger from aught of earth since the Great Ones themselves dread them. And even were unexpected things to come from the Other Gods, who are prone to oversee the affairs of earth's milder gods, the night-gaunts need not fear; for the outer hells are indifferent matters to such silent and slippery flyers as own not Nyarlathotep for their master, but bow only to potent and archaic Nodens.

A flock of ten or fifteen night-gaunts, Carter glibbered, would surely be enough to keep any combination of Shantaks at a distance, though perhaps it might be well to have some ghouls in the party to manage the creatures, their ways being better known to their ghoulish allies than to men. The party could land him at some convenient point within whatever walls that fabulous onyx citadel might have, waiting in the shadows for his return or his signal whilst he ventured inside the castle to give prayer to the gods of earth. If any ghouls chose to escort him into the throne-room of the Great Ones, he would be thankful, for their presence would add weight and importance to his plea. He would not, however, insist upon this but merely wished transportation to and from the castle atop unknown Kadath; the final journey being either to the marvellous sunset city itself, in case of gods proved favourable, or back to the earthward Gate of Deeper Slumber in the Enchanted Wood in case his prayers were fruitless.

Whilst Carter was speaking all the ghouls listened with great attention, and as the moments advanced the sky became black with clouds of those night-gaunts for which messengers had been sent. The winged steeds settled in a semicircle around the ghoulish army, waiting respectfully as the doglike chieftains considered the wish of the earthly traveller. The ghoul that was Pickman glibbered gravely with his fellows and in the end Carter was offered far more than he had at most expected. As he had aided the ghouls in their conquest of the moonbeasts, so would they aid him in his daring voyage to realms whence none had ever returned; lending him not merely a few of their allied night-gaunts, but their entire army as then encamped, veteran fighting ghouls and newly assembled night-gaunts alike, save only a small garrison for the captured black galley and such spoils as had come from the jagged rock in the sea. They would set out through the aft whenever he might wish, and once arrived on Kadath a suitable train of ghouls would attend him in state as he placed his petition before earth's gods in their onyx castle.

Moved by a gratitude and satisfaction beyond words, Carter made plans with the ghoulish leaders for his audacious voyage. The army would fly high, they decided, over hideous Leng with its nameless monastery and wicked stone villages; stopping only at the vast grey peaks to confer with the Shantak-frightening night-gaunts whose burrows honeycombed their summits. They would then, according to what advice they might receive from those denizens, choose their final course; approaching unknown Kadath either through the desert of carven mountains north of Inquanok, or through the more northerly reaches of repulsive Leng itself. Doglike and soulless as they are, the ghouls and night-gaunts had no dread of what those untrodden deserts might reveal; nor did they feel any deterring awe at the thought of Kadath towering lone with its onyx castle of mystery.

About midday the ghouls and night-gaunts prepared for flight, each ghoul selecting a suitable pair of horned steeds to bear him. Carter was placed well up toward the head of the column beside Pickman, and in front of the whole a double line of riderless night-gaunts was provided as a vanguard. At a brisk meep from Pickman the whole shocking army rose in a nightmare cloud above the broken columns and crumbling sphinxes of primordial Sarkomand; higher and higher, till even the great basalt cliff behind the town was cleared, and the cold, sterile table-land of Leng's outskirts laid open to sight. Still higher flew the black host, till even this table-land grew small beneath them; and as they worked northward over the wind-swept plateau of horror Carter saw once again with a shudder the circle of crude monoliths and the squat windowless building which he knew held that frightful silken-masked blasphemy from whose clutches he had so narrowly escaped. This time no descent was made as the army swept batlike over the sterile landscape, passing the feeble fires of the unwholesome stone villages at a great altitude, and pausing not at all to mark the morbid twistings of the hooved, horned almost-humans that dance and pipe eternally therein. Once they saw a Shantak-bird flying low over the plain, but when it saw them it screamed noxiously and flapped off to the north in grotesque panic.

At dusk they reached the jagged grey peaks that form the barrier of Inquanok, and hovered about these strange caves near the summits which Carter recalled as so frightful to the Shantaks. At the insistent meeping of the ghoulish leaders there issued forth from each lofty burrow a stream of horned black flyers with which the ghouls and night-gaunts of the party conferred at length by means of ugly gestures. It soon became clear that the best course would be that over the cold waste north of Inquanok, for Leng's northward reaches are full of unseen pitfalls that even the night-gaunts dislike; abysmal influences centering in certain white hemispherical buildings on curious knolls, which common folklore associates unpleasantly with the Other Gods and their crawling chaos Nyarlathotep.

Of Kadath the flutterers of the peaks knew almost nothing, save that there must be some mighty marvel toward the north, over which the Shantaks and the carven mountains stand guard. They hinted at rumoured abnormalities of proportion in those trackless leagues beyond, and recalled vague whispers of a realm where night broods eternally; but of definite data they had nothing to give. So Carter and his party thanked them kindly; and, crossing the topmost granite pinnacles to the skies of Inquanok, dropped below the level of the phosphorescent night clouds and beheld in the distance those terrible squatting gargoyles that were mountains till some titan hand carved fright into their virgin rock.

There they squatted in a hellish half-circle, their legs on the desert sand and their mitres piercing the luminous clouds; sinister, wolflike, and double-headed, with faces of fury and right hands raised, dully and malignly watching the rim of man's world and guarding with horror the reaches of a cold northern world that is not man's. From their hideous laps rose evil Shantaks of elephantine bulk, but these all fled with insane titters as the vanguard of night-gaunts was sighted in the misty sky. Northward above those gargoyle mountains the army flew, and over leagues of dim desert where never a landmark rose. Less and less luminous grew the clouds, till at length Carter could see only blackness around him; but never did the winged steeds falter, bred as they were in earth's blackest crypts, and seeing not with any eyes, but with the whole dank surface of their slippery forms. On and on they flew, past winds of dubious scent and sounds of dubious import; ever in thickest darkness, and covering such prodigious spaces that Carter wondered whether or not they could still be within earth's dreamland.

Then suddenly the clouds thinned and the stars shone spectrally above. All below was still black, but those pallid beacons in the sky seemed alive with a meaning and directiveness they had never possessed elsewhere. It was not that the figures of the constellations were different, but that the same familiar shapes now revealed a significance they had formerly failed to make plain. Everything focussed toward the north; every curve and asterism of the glittering sky became part of a vast design whose function was to hurry first the eye and then the whole observer onward to some secret and terrible goal of convergence beyond the frozen waste that stretched endlessly ahead. Carter looked toward the east where the great ridge of barrier peaks had towered along all the length of Inquanok and saw against the stars a jagged silhouette which told of its continued presence. It was more broken now, with yawning clefts and fantastically erratic pinnacles; and Carter studied closely the suggestive turnings and inclinations of that grotesque outline, which seemed to share with the stars some subtle northward urge.

They were flying past at a tremendous speed, so that the watcher had to strain hard to catch details; when all at once he beheld just above the line of the topmost peaks a dark and moving object against the stars, whose course exactly paralleled that of his own bizarre party. The ghouls had likewise glimpsed it, for he heard their low glibbering all about him, and for a moment he fancied the object was a gigantic Shantak, of a size vastly greater than that of the average specimen. Soon, however, he saw that this theory would not hold; for the shape of the thing above the mountains was not that of any hippocephalic bird. Its outline against the stars, necessarily vague as it was, resembled rather some huge mitred head, or pair of heads infinitely magnified; and its rapid bobbing flight through the sky seemed most peculiarly a wingless one. Carter could not tell which side of the mountains it was on, but soon perceived that it had parts below the parts he had first seen, since it blotted out all the stars in places where the ridge was deeply cleft.

Then came a wide gap in the range, where the hideous reaches of transmontane Leng were joined to the cold waste on this side by a low pass trough which the stars shone wanly. Carter watched this gap with intense care, knowing that he might see outlined against the sky beyond it the lower parts of the vast thing that flew undulantly above the pinnacles. The object had now floated ahead a trifle, and every eye of the party was fixed on the rift where it would presently appear in full-length silhouette. Gradually the huge thing above the peaks neared the gap, slightly slackening its speed as if conscious of having outdistanced the ghoulish army. For another minute suspense was keen, and then the brief instant of full silhouette and revelation came; bringing to the lips of the ghouls an awed and half-choked meep of cosmic fear, and to the soul of the traveller a chill that never wholly left it. For the mammoth bobbing shape that overtopped the ridge was only a head - a mitred double head - and below it in terrible vastness loped the frightful swollen body that bore it; the mountain-high monstrosity that walked in stealth and silence; the hyaena-like distortion of a giant anthropoid shape that trotted blackly against the sky, its repulsive pair of cone-capped heads reaching half way to the zenith.

Carter did not lose consciousness or even scream aloud, for he was an old dreamer; but he looked behind him in horror and shuddered when he saw that there were other monstrous heads silhouetted above the level of the peaks, bobbing along stealthily after the first one. And straight in the rear were three of the mighty mountain shapes seen full against the southern stars, tiptoeing wolflike and lumberingly, their tall mitres nodding thousands of feet in the aft. The carven mountains, then, had not stayed squatting in that rigid semicircle north of Inquanok, with right hands uplifted. They had duties to perform, and were not remiss. But it was horrible that they never spoke, and never even made a sound in walking.

Meanwhile the ghoul that was Pickman had glibbered an order to the night-gaunts, and the whole army soared higher into the air. Up toward the stars the grotesque column shot, till nothing stood out any longer against the sky; neither the grey granite ridge that was still nor the carven mitred mountains that walked. All was blackness beneath as the fluttering legion surged northward amidst rushing winds and invisible laughter in the aether, and never a Shantak or less mentionable entity rose from the haunted wastes to pursue them. The farther they went, the faster they flew, till soon their dizzying speed seemed to pass that of a rifle ball and approach that of a planet in its orbit. Carter wondered how with such speed the earth could still stretch beneath them, but knew that in the land of dream dimensions have strange properties. That they were in a realm of eternal night he felt certain, and he fancied that the constellations overhead had subtly emphasized their northward focus; gathering themselves up as it were to cast the flying army into the void of the boreal pole, as the folds of a bag are gathered up to cast out the last bits of substance therein.

Then he noticed with terror that the wings of the night-gaunts were not flapping any more. The horned and faceless steeds had folded their membranous appendages, and were resting quite passive in the chaos of wind that whirled and chuckled as it bore them on. A force not of earth had seized on the army, and ghouls and night-gaunts alike were powerless before a current which pulled madly and relentlessly into the north whence no mortal had ever returned. At length a lone pallid light was seen on the skyline ahead, thereafter rising steadily as they approached, and having beneath it a black mass that blotted out the stars. Carter saw that it must be some beacon on a mountain, for only a mountain could rise so vast as seen from so prodigious a height in the air.

Higher and higher rose the light and the blackness beneath it, till all the northern sky was obscured by the rugged conical mass. Lofty as the army was, that pale and sinister beacon rose above it, towering monstrous over all peaks and concernments of earth, and tasting the atomless aether where the cryptical moon and the mad planets reel. No mountain known of man was that which loomed before them. The high clouds far below were but a fringe for its foothills. The groping dizziness of topmost air was but a girdle for its loins. Scornful and spectral climbed that bridge betwixt earth and heaven, black in eternal night, and crowned with a pshent of unknown stars whose awful and significant outline grew every moment clearer. Ghouls meeped in wonder as they saw it, and Carter shivered in fear lest all the hurtling army be dashed to pieces on the unyielding onyx of that cyclopean cliff.

Higher and higher rose the light, till it mingled with the loftiest orbs of the zenith and winked down at the flyers with lurid mockery. All the north beneath it was blackness now; dread, stony blackness from infinite depths to infinite heights, with only that pale winking beacon perched unreachably at the top of all vision. Carter studied the light more closely, and saw at last what lines its inky background made against the stars. There were towers on that titan mountaintop; horrible domed towers in noxious and incalculable tiers and clusters beyond any dreamable workmanship of man; battlements and terraces of wonder and menace, all limned tiny and black and distant against the starry pshent that glowed malevolently at the uppermost rim of sight. Capping that most measureless of mountains was a castle beyond all mortal thought, and in it glowed the daemon-light. Then Randolph Carter knew that his quest was done, and that he saw above him the goal of all forbidden steps and audacious visions; the fabulous, the incredible home of the Great Ones atop unknown Kadath.

Even as he realised this thing, Carter noticed a change in the course of the helplessly wind-sucked party. They were rising abruptly now, and it was plain that the focus of their flight was the onyx castle where the pale light shone. So close was the great black mountain that its sides sped by them dizzily as they shot upward, and in the darkness they could discern nothing upon it. Vaster and vaster loomed the tenebrous towers of the nighted castle above, and Carter could see that it was well-nigh blasphemous in its immensity. Well might its stones have been quarried by nameless workmen in that horrible gulf rent out of the rock in the hill pass north of Inquanok, for such was its size that a man on its threshold stood even as air out on the steps of earth's loftiest fortress. The pshent of unknown stars above the myriad domed turrets glowed with a sallow, sickly flare, so that a kind of twilight hung about the murky walls of slippery onyx. The pallid beacon was now seen to be a single shining window high up in one of the loftiest towers, and as the helpless army neared the top of the mountain Carter thought he detected unpleasant shadows flitting across the feebly luminous expanse. It was a strangely arched window, of a design wholly alien to earth.

The solid rock now gave place to the giant foundations of the monstrous castle, and it seemed that the speed of the party was somewhat abated. Vast walls shot up, and there was a glimpse of a great gate through which the voyagers were swept. All was night in the titan courtyard, and then came the deeper blackness of inmost things as a huge arched portal engulfed the column. Vortices of cold wind surged dankly through sightless labyrinths of onyx, and Carter could never tell what Cyclopean stairs and corridors lay silent along the route of his endless aerial twisting. Always upward led the terrible plunge in darkness, and never a sound, touch or glimpse broke the dense pall of mystery. Large as the army of ghouls and night-gaunts was, it was lost in the prodigious voids of that more than earthly castle. And when at last there suddenly dawned around him the lurid light of that single tower room whose lofty window had served as a beacon, it took Carter long to discern the far walls and high, distant ceiling, and to realize that he was indeed not again in the boundless air outside.

Randolph Carter had hoped to come into the throne-room of the Great Ones with poise and dignity, flanked and followed by impressive lines of ghouls in ceremonial order, and offering his prayer as a free and potent master among dreamers. He had known that the Great Ones themselves are not beyond a mortal's power to cope with, and had trusted to luck that the Other Gods and their crawling chaos Nyarlathotep would not happen to come to their aid at the crucial moment, as they had so often done before when men sought out earth's gods in their home or on their mountains. And with his hideous escort he had half hoped to defy even the Other Gods if need were, knowing as he did that ghouls have no masters, and that night-gaunts own not Nyarlathotep but only archaic Nodens for their lord. But now he saw that supernal Kadath in its cold waste is indeed girt with dark wonders and nameless sentinels, and that the Other Gods are of a surety vigilant in guarding the mild, feeble gods of earth. Void as they are of lordship over ghouls and night-gaunts, the mindless, shapeless blasphemies of outer space can yet control them when they must; so that it was not in state as a free and potent master of dreamers that Randolph Carter came into the Great Ones' throne-room with his ghouls. Swept and herded by nightmare tempests from the stars, and dogged by unseen horrors of the northern waste, all that army floated captive and helpless in the lurid light, dropping numbly to the onyx floor when by some voiceless order the winds of fright dissolved.

Before no golden dais had Randolph Carter come, nor was there any august circle of crowned and haloed beings with narrow eyes, long-lobed ears, thin nose, and pointed chin whose kinship to the carven face on Ngranek might stamp them as those to whom a dreamer might pray. Save for the one tower room the onyx castle atop Kadath was dark, and the masters were not there. Carter had come to unknown Kadath in the cold waste, but he had not found the gods. Yet still the lurid light glowed in that one tower room whose size was so little less than that of all outdoors, and whose distant walls and roof were so nearly lost to sight in thin, curling mists. Earth's gods were not there, it was true, but of subtler and less visible presences there could be no lack. Where the mild gods are absent, the Other Gods are not unrepresented; and certainly, the onyx castle of castles was far from tenantless. In what outrageous form or forms terror would next reveal itself Carter could by no means imagine. He felt that his visit had been expected, and wondered how close a watch had all along been kept upon him by the crawling chaos Nyarlathotep. It is Nyarlathotep, horror of infinite shapes and dread soul and messenger of the Other Gods, that the fungous moonbeasts serve; and Carter thought of the black galley that had vanished when the tide of battle turned against the toadlike abnormalities on the jagged rock in the sea.

Reflecting upon these things, he was staggering to his feet in the midst of his nightmare company when there rang without warning through that pale-litten and limitless chamber the hideous blast of a daemon trumpet. Three times pealed that frightful brazen scream, and when the echoes of the third blast had died chucklingly away Randolph Carter saw that he was alone. Whither, why and how the ghouls and night-gaunts had been snatched from sight was not for him to divine. He knew only that he was suddenly alone, and that whatever unseen powers lurked mockingly around him were no powers of earth's friendly dreamland. Presently from the chamber's uttermost reaches a new sound came. This, too, was a rhythmic trumpeting; but of a kind far removed from the three raucous blasts which had dissolved his goodly cohorts. In this low fanfare echoed all the wonder and melody of ethereal dream; exotic vistas of unimagined loveliness floating from each strange chord and subtly alien cadence. Odours of incense came to match the golden notes; and overhead a great light dawned, its colours changing in cycles unknown to earth's spectrum, and following the song of the trumpets in weird symphonic harmonies. Torches flared in the distance, and the beat of drums throbbed nearer amidst waves of tense expectancy.

Out of the thinning mists and the cloud of strange incenses filed twin columns of giant black slaves with loin-cloths of iridescent silk. Upon their heads were strapped vast helmet-like torches of glittering metal, from which the fragrance of obscure balsams spread in fumous spirals. In their right hands were crystal wands whose tips were carven into leering chimaeras, while their left hands grasped long thin silver trumpets which they blew in turn. Armlets and anklets of gold they had, and between each pair of anklets stretched a golden chain that held its wearer to a sober gait. That they were true black men of earth's dreamland was at once apparent, but it seemed less likely that their rites and costumes were wholly things of our earth. Ten feet from Carter the columns stopped, and as they did so each trumpet flew abruptly to its bearer's thick lips. Wild and ecstatic was the blast that followed, and wilder still the cry that chorused just after from dark throats somehow made shrill by strange artifice.

Then down the wide lane betwixt the two columns a lone figure strode; a tall, slim figure with the young face of an antique Pharaoh, gay with prismatic robes and crowned with a golden pshent that glowed with inherent light. Close up to Carter strode that regal figure; whose proud carriage and smart features had in them the fascination of a dark god or fallen archangel, and around whose eyes there lurked the languid sparkle of capricious humour. It spoke, and in its mellow tones there rippled the wild music of Lethean streams.

"Randolph Carter," said the voice, "you have come to see the Great Ones whom it is unlawful for men to see. Watchers have spoken of this thing, and the Other Gods have grunted as they rolled and tumbled mindlessly to the sound of thin flutes in the black ultimate void where broods the daemon-sultan whose name no lips dare speak aloud.

"When Barzai the Wise climbed Hatheg-Kia to see the Greater Ones dance and howl above the clouds in the moonlight he never returned. The Other Gods were there, and they did what was expected. Zenig of Aphorat sought to reach unknown Kadath in the cold waste, and his skull is now set in a ring on the little finger of one whom I need not name.

"But you, Randolph Carter, have braved all things of earth's dreamland, and burn still with the flame of quest. You came not as one curious, but as one seeking his due, nor have you failed ever in reverence toward the mild gods of earth. Yet have these gods kept you from the marvellous sunset city of your dreams, and wholly through their own small covetousness; for verily, they craved the weird loveliness of that which your fancy had fashioned, and vowed that henceforward no other spot should be their abode.

"They are gone from their castle on unknown Kadath to dwell in your marvellous city. All through its palaces of veined marble they revel by day, and when the sun sets they go out in the perfumed gardens and watch the golden glory on temples and colonnades, arched bridges and silver-basined fountains, and wide streets with blossom-laden urns and ivory statues in gleaming rows. And when night comes they climb tall terraces in the dew, and sit on carved benches of porphyry scanning the stars, or lean over pale balustrades to gaze at the town's steep northward slopes, where one by one the little windows in old peaked gables shine softly out with the calm yellow light of homely candles.

"The gods love your marvellous city, and walk no more in the ways of the gods. They have forgotten the high places of earth, and the mountains that knew their youth. The earth has no longer any gods that are gods, and only the Other Ones from outer space hold sway on unremembered Kadath. Far away in a valley of your own childhood, Randolph Carter, play the heedless Great Ones. You have dreamed too well, O wise arch-dreamer, for you have drawn dream's gods away from the world of all men's visions to that which is wholly yours; having builded out of your boyhood's small fancies a city more lovely than all the phantoms that have gone before.

"It is not well that earth's gods leave their thrones for the spider to spin on, and their realm for the Others to sway in the dark manner of Others. Fain would the powers from outside bring chaos and horror to you, Randolph Carter, who are the cause of their upsetting, but that they know it is by you alone that the gods may be sent back to their world. In that half-waking dreamland which is yours, no power of uttermost night may pursue; and only you can send the selfish Great Ones gently out of your marvellous sunset city, back through the northern twilight to their wonted place atop unknown Kadath in the cold waste.

"So. Randolph Carter, in the name of the Other Gods I spare you and charge you to seek that sunset city which is yours, and to send thence the drowsy truant gods for whom the dream world waits. Not hard to find is that roseal fever of the gods, that fanfare of supernal trumpets and clash of immortal cymbals, that mystery whose place and meaning have haunted you through the halls of waking and the gulfs of dreaming, and tormented you with hints of vanished memory and the pain of lost things awesome and momentous. Not hard to find is that symbol and relic of your days of wonder, for truly, it is but the stable and eternal gem wherein all that wonder sparkles crystallised to light your evening path. Behold! It is not over unknown seas but back over well-known years that your quest must go; back to the bright strange things of infancy and the quick sun-drenched glimpses of magic that old scenes brought to wide young eyes.

"For know you, that your gold and marble city of wonder is only the sum of what you have seen and loved in youth. It is the glory of Boston's hillside roofs and western windows aflame with sunset, of the flower-fragrant Common and the great dome on the hill and the tangle of gables and chimneys in the violet valley where the many-bridged Charles flows drowsily. These things you saw, Randolph Carter, when your nurse first wheeled you out in the springtime, and they will be the last things you will ever see with eyes of memory and of love. And there is antique Salem with its brooding years, and spectral Marblehead scaling its rocky precipices into past centuries! And the glory of Salem's towers and spires seen afar from Marblehead's pastures across the harbour against the setting sun.

"There is Providence quaint and lordly on its seven hills over the blue harbour, with terraces of green leading up to steeples and citadels of living antiquity, and Newport climbing wraithlike from its dreaming breakwater. Arkham is there, with its moss-grown gambrel roofs and the rocky rolling meadows behind it; and antediluvian Kingsport hoary with stacked chimneys and deserted quays and overhanging gables, and the marvel of high cliffs and the milky-misted ocean with tolling buoys beyond.

"Cool vales in Concord, cobbled lands in Portsmouth, twilight bends of rustic New Hampshire roads where giant elms half hide white farmhouse walls and creaking well-sweeps. Gloucester's salt wharves and Truro's windy willows. Vistas of distant steepled towns and hills beyond hills along the North Shore, hushed stony slopes and low ivied cottages in the lee of huge boulders in Rhode Island's back country. Scent of the sea and fragrance of the fields; spell of the dark woods and joy of the orchards and gardens at dawn. These, Randolph Carter, are your city; for they are yourself. New England bore you, and into your soul she poured a liquid loveliness which cannot die. This loveliness, moulded, crystallised, and polished by years of memory and dreaming, is your terraced wonder of elusive sunsets; and to find that marble parapet with curious urns and carven rail, and descend at last these endless balustraded steps to the city of broad squares and prismatic fountains, you need only to turn back to the thoughts and visions of your wistful boyhood.

"Look! through that window shine the stars of eternal night. Even now they are shining above the scenes you have known and cherished, drinking of their charm that they may shine more lovely over the gardens of dream. There is Antares-he is winking at this moment over the roofs of Tremont Street, and you could see him from your window on Beacon Hill. Out beyond those stars yawn the gulfs from whence my mindless masters have sent me. Some day you too may traverse them, but if you are wise you will beware such folly; for of those mortals who have been and returned, only one preserves a mind unshattered by the pounding, clawing horrors of the void. Terrors and blasphemies gnaw at one another for space, and there is more evil in the lesser ones than in the greater; even as you know from the deeds of those who sought to deliver you into my hands, whilst I myself harboured no wish to shatter you, and would indeed have helped you hither long ago had I not been elsewhere busy,and certain that you would yourself find the way. Shun then, the outer hells, and stick to the calm, lovely things of your youth. Seek out your marvellous city and drive thence the recreant Great Ones, sending them back gently to those scenes which are of their own youth, and which wait uneasy for their return.

"Easier even then the way of dim memory is the way I will prepare for you. See! There comes hither a monstrous Shantak, led by a slave who for your peace of mind had best keep invisible. Mount and be ready - there! Yogash the Black will help you on the scaly horror. Steer for that brightest star just south of the zenith - it is Vega, and in two hours will be just above the terrace of your sunset city. Steer for it only till you hear a far-off singing in the high aether. Higher than that lurks madness, so rein your Shantak when the first note lures. Look then back to earth, and you will see shining the deathless altar-flame of Ired-Naa from the sacred roof of a temple. That temple is in your desiderate sunset city, so steer for it before you heed the singing and are lost.

"When you draw nigh the city steer for the same high parapet whence of old you scanned the outspread glory, prodding the Shantak till he cry aloud. That cry the Great Ones will hear and know as they sit on their perfumed terraces, and there will come upon them such a homesickness that all of your city's wonders will not console them for the absence of Kadath's grim castle and the pshent of eternal stars that crowns it.

"Then must you land amongst them with the Shantak, and let them see and touch that noisome and hippocephalic bird; meanwhile discoursing to them of unknown Kadath, which you will so lately have left, and telling them how its boundless halls are lovely and unlighted, where of old they used to leap and revel in supernal radiance. And the Shantak will talk to them in the manner of Shantaks, but it will have no powers of persuasion beyond the recalling of elder days.

"Over and over must you speak to the wandering Great Ones of their home and youth, till at last they will weep and ask to be shewn the returning path they have forgotten. Thereat can you loose the waiting Shantak, sending him skyward with the homing cry of his kind; hearing which the Great Ones will prance and jump with antique mirth, and forthwith stride after the loathly bird in the fashion of gods, through the deep gulfs of heaven to Kadath's familiar towers and domes.

"Then will the marvellous sunset city be yours to cherish and inhabit for ever, and once more will earth's gods rule the dreams of men from their accustomed seat. Go now - the casement is open and the stars await outside. Already your Shantak wheezes and titters with impatience. Steer for Vega through the night, but turn when the singing sounds. Forget not this warning, lest horrors unthinkable suck you into the gulf of shrieking and ululant madness. Remember the Other Gods; they are great and mindless and terrible, and lurk in the outer voids. They are good gods to shun.

"Hei! Aa-shanta 'nygh! You are off! Send back earth's gods to their haunts on unknown Kadath, and pray to all space that you may never meet me in my thousand other forms. Farewell, Randolph Carter, and beware; for I am Nyarlathotep, the Crawling Chaos."

And Randolph Carter, gasping and dizzy on his hideous Shantak, shot screamingly into space toward the cold blue glare of boreal Vega; looking but once behind him at the clustered and chaotic turrets of the onyx nightmare wherein still glowed the lone lurid light of that window above the air and the clouds of earth's dreamland. Great polypous horrors slid darkly past, and unseen bat wings beat multitudinous around him, but still he clung to the unwholesome mane of that loathly and hippocephalic scaled bird. The stars danced mockingly, almost shifting now and then to form pale signs of doom that one might wonder one had not seen and feared before; and ever the winds of nether howled of vague blackness and loneliness beyond the cosmos.

Then through the glittering vault ahead there fell a hush of portent, and all the winds and horrors slunk away as night things slink away before the dawn. Trembling in waves that golden wisps of nebula made weirdly visible, there rose a timid hint of far-off melody, droning in faint chords that our own universe of stars knows not. And as that music grew, the Shantak raised its ears and plunged ahead, and Carter likewise bent to catch each lovely strain. It was a song, but not the song of any voice. Night and the spheres sang it, and it was old when space and Nyarlathotep and the Other Gods were born.

Faster flew the Shantak, and lower bent the rider, drunk with the marvel of strange gulfs, and whirling in the crystal coils of outer magic. Then came too late the warning of the evil one, the sardonic caution of the daemon legate who had bidden the seeker beware the madness of that song. Only to taunt had Nyarlathotep marked out the way to safety and the marvellous sunset city; only to mock had that black messenger revealed the secret of these truant gods whose steps he could so easily lead back at will. For madness and the void's wild vengeance are Nyarlathotep's only gifts to the presumptuous; and frantick though the rider strove to turn his disgusting steed, that leering, tittering Shantak coursed on impetuous and relentless, flapping its great slippery wings in malignant joy and headed for those unhallowed pits whither no dreams reach; that last amorphous blight of nether-most confusion where bubbles and blasphemes at infinity's centre the mindless daemon-sultan Azathoth, whose name no lips dare speak aloud.

Unswerving and obedient to the foul legate's orders, that hellish bird plunged onward through shoals of shapeless lurkers and caperers in darkness, and vacuous herds of drifting entities that pawed and groped and groped and pawed; the nameless larvae of the Other Gods, that are like them blind and without mind, and possessed of singular hungers and thirsts

Onward unswerving and relentless, and tittering hilariously to watch the chuckling and hysterics into which the risen song of night and the spheres had turned, that eldritch scaly monster bore its helpless rider; hurtling and shooting, cleaving the uttermost rim and spanning the outermost abysses; leaving behind the stars and the realms of matter, and darting meteor-like through stark formlessness toward those inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond time wherein Azathoth gnaws shapeless and ravenous amidst the muffled, maddening beat of vile drums and the thin, monotonous whine of accursed flutes.

Onward - onward - through the screaming, cackling, and blackly populous gulfs - and then from some dim blessed distance there came an image and a thought to Randolph Carter the doomed. Too well had Nyarlathotep planned his mocking and his tantalising, for he had brought up that which no gusts of icy terror could quite efface. Home - New England - Beacon Hill - the waking world.

"For know you, that your gold and marble city of wonder is only the sum of what you have seen and loved in youth... the glory of Boston's hillside roofs and western windows aflame with sunset; of the flower-fragrant Common and the great dome on the hill and the tangle of gables and chimneys in the violet valley where the many-bridged Charles flows drowsily... this loveliness, moulded, crystallised, and polished by years of memory and dreaming, is your terraced wonder of elusive sunsets; and to find that marble parapet with curious urns and carven rail, and descend at last those endless balustraded steps to the city of broad squares and prismatic fountains, you need only to turn back to the thoughts and visions of your wistful boyhood."

Onward - onward - dizzily onward to ultimate doom through the blackness where sightless feelers pawed and slimy snouts jostled and nameless things tittered and tittered and tittered. But the image and the thought had come, and Randolph Carter knew clearly that he was dreaming and only dreaming, and that somewhere in the background the world of waking and the city of his infancy still lay. Words came again - "You need only turn back to the thoughts and visions of your wistful boyhood." Turn - turn - blackness on every side, but Randolph Carter could turn.

Thick though the rushing nightmare that clutched his senses, Randolph Carter could turn and move. He could move, and if he chose he could leap off the evil Shantak that bore him hurtlingly doomward at the orders of Nyarlathotep. He could leap off and dare those depths of night that yawned interminably down, those depths of fear whose terrors yet could not exceed the nameless doom that lurked waiting at chaos' core. He could turn and move and leap - he could - he would - he would - he would.

Off that vast hippocephalic abomination leaped the doomed and desperate dreamer, and down through endless voids of sentient blackness he fell. Aeons reeled, universes died and were born again, stars became nebulae and nebulae became stars, and still Randolph Carter fell through those endless voids of sentient blackness.

Then in the slow creeping course of eternity the utmost cycle of the cosmos churned itself into another futile completion, and all things became again as they were unreckoned kalpas before. Matter and light were born anew as space once had known them; and comets, suns and worlds sprang flaming into life, though nothing survived to tell that they had been and gone, been and gone, always and always, back to no first beginning.

And there was a firmament again, and a wind, and a glare of purple light in the eyes of the falling dreamer. There were gods and presences and wills; beauty and evil, and the shrieking of noxious night robbed of its prey. For through the unknown ultimate cycle had lived a thought and a vision of a dreamer's boyhood, and now there were remade a waking world and an old cherished city to body and to justify these things. Out of the void S'ngac the violet gas had pointed the way, and archaic Nodens was bellowing his guidance from unhinted deeps.

Stars swelled to dawns, and dawns burst into fountains of gold, carmine, and purple, and still the dreamer fell. Cries rent the aether as ribbons of light beat back the fiends from outside. And hoary Nodens raised a howl of triumph when Nyarlathotep, close on his quarry, stopped baffled by a glare that seared his formless hunting-horrors to grey dust. Randolph Carter had indeed descended at last the wide marmoreal flights to his marvellous city, for he was come again to the fair New England world that had wrought him.

So to the organ chords of morning's myriad whistles, and dawn's blaze thrown dazzling through purple panes by the great gold dome of the State House on the hill, Randolph Carter leaped shoutingly awake within his Boston room. Birds sang in hidden gardens and the perfume of trellised vines came wistful from arbours his grandfather had reared. Beauty and light glowed from classic mantel and carven cornice and walls grotesquely figured, while a sleek black cat rose yawning from hearthside sleep that his master's start and shriek had disturbed. And vast infinities away, past the Gate of Deeper Slumber and the enchanted wood and the garden lands and the Cerenarian Sea and the twilight reaches of Inquanok, the crawling chaos Nyarlathotep strode brooding into the onyx castle atop unknown Kadath in the cold waste, and taunted insolently the mild gods of earth whom he had snatched abruptly from their scented revels in the marvellous sunset city.

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The Flesh of Fallen Angels! Come to me all! Asteroth,

Beelzebub, Asmodeus, Bapholada, Lucifer, Loki, Satan,

Cthulhu, Lilith, Della! Blood, to you all!

I'm the wolf, yeah!
I am the wolf! It's close, it's coming. You have come.
The witness to the end, of time. It's now! I will rise to
her side! I don't need the words!
I'm beyond the words!
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Dreams in the WitchHouse

Whether the dreams brought on the fever or the fever brought on the dreams Walter Gilman did not know. Behind everything crouched the brooding, festering horror of the ancient town, and of the mouldy, unhallowed garret gable where he wrote and studied and wrestled with flgures and formulae when he was not tossing on the meagre iron bed. His ears were growing sensitive to a preternatural and intolerable degree, and he had long ago stopped the cheap mantel clock whose ticking had come to seem like a thunder of artillery. At night the subtle stirring of the black city outside, the sinister scurrying of rats in the wormy partitions, and the creaking of hidden timbers in the centuried house, were enough to give him a sense of strident pandemonium. The darkness always teemed with unexplained sound - and yet he sometimes shook with fear lest the noises he heard should subside and allow him to hear certain other fainter noises which he suspected were lurking behind them.

He was in the changeless, legend-haunted city of Arkham, with its clustering gambrel roofs that sway and sag over attics where witches hid from the King's men in the dark, olden years of the Province. Nor was any spot in that city more steeped in macabre memory than the gable room which harboured him - for it was this house and this room which had likewise harboured old Keziah Mason, whose flight from Salem Gaol at the last no one was ever able to explain. That was in 1692 - the gaoler had gone mad and babbled of a small white-fanged furry thing which scuttled out of Keziah's cell, and not even Cotton Mather could explain the curves and angles smeared on the grey stone walls with some red, sticky fluid.

Possibly Gilman ought not to have studied so hard. Non-Euclidean calculus and quantum physics are enough to stretch any brain, and when one mixes them with folklore, and tries to trace a strange background of multi-dimensional reality behind the ghoulish hints of the Gothic tales and the wild whispers of the chimney-corner, one can hardly expect to be wholly free from mental tension. Gilman came from Haverhill, but it was only after he had entered college in Arkham that he began to connect his mathematics with the fantastic legends of elder magic. Something in the air of the hoary town worked obscurely on his imagination. The professors at Miskatonic had urged him to slacken up, and had voluntarily cut down his course at several points. Moreover, they had stopped him from consulting the dubious old books on forbidden secrets that were kept under lock and key in a vault at the university library. But all these precautions came late in the day, so that Gilman had some terrible hints from the dreaded Necronomicon of Abdul Alhazred, the fragmentary Book of Eibon, and the suppressed Unaussprechlicken Kulten of von Junzt to correlate with his abstract formulae on the properties of space and the linkage of dimensions known and unknown.

He knew his room was in the old Witch-House - that, indeed, was why he had taken it. There was much in the Essex County records about Keziah Mason's trial, and what she had admitted under pressure to the Court of Oyer and Terminer had fascinated Gilman beyond all reason. She had told Judge Hathorne of lines and curves that could be made to point out directions leading through the walls of space to other spaces beyond, and had implied that such lines and curves were frequently used at certain midnight meetings in the dark valley of the white stone beyond Meadow Hill and on the unpeopled island in the river. She had spoken also of the Black Man, of her oath, and of her new secret name of Nahab. Then she had drawn those devices on the walls of her cell and vanished.

Gilman believed strange things about Keziah, and had felt a queer thrill on learning that her dwelling was still standing after more than two hundred and thirty-five years. When he heard the hushed Arkham whispers about Keziah's persistent presence in the old house and the narrow streets, about the irregular human tooth-marks left on certain sleepers in that and other houses, about the childish cries heard near May-Eve, and Hallowmass, about the stench often noted in the old house's attic just after those dreaded seasons, and about the small, furry, sharp-toothed thing which haunted the mouldering structure and the town and nuzzled people curiously in the black hours before dawn, he resolved to live in the place at any cost. A room was easy to secure, for the house was unpopular, hard to rent, and long given over to cheap lodgings. Gilman could not have told what he expected to find there, but he knew he wanted to be in the building where some circumstance had more or less suddenly given a mediocre old woman of the Seventeenth Century an insight into mathematical depths perhaps beyond the utmost modern delvings of Planck, Heisenberg, Einstein, and de Sitter.

He studied the timber and plaster walls for traces of cryptic designs at every accessible spot where the paper had peeled, and within a week managed to get the eastern attic room where Keziah was held to have practised her spells. It had been vacant from the first - for no one had ever been willing to stay there long - but the Polish landlord had grown wary about renting it. Yet nothing whatever happened to Gilman till about the time of the fever. No ghostly Keziah flitted through the sombre halls and chambers, no small furry thing crept into his dismal eyrie to nuzzle him, and no record of the witch's incantations rewarded his constant search. Sometimes he would take walks through shadowy tangles of unpaved musty-smelling lanes where eldritch brown houses of unknown age leaned and tottered and leered mockingly through narrow, small-paned windows. Here he knew strange things had happened once, and there was a faint suggestion behind the surface that everything of that monstrous past might not - at least in the darkest, narrowest, and most intricately crooked alleys - have utterly perished. He also rowed out twice to the ill-regarded island in the river, and made a sketch of the singular angles described by the moss-grown rows of grey standing stones whose origin was so obscure and immemorial.

Gilman's room was of good size but queerly irregular shape; the north wall slating perceptibly inward from the outer to the inner end, while the low ceiling slanted gently downward in the same direction. Aside from an obvious rat-hole and the signs of other stopped-up ones, there was no access - nor any appearance of a former avenue of access - to the space which must have existed between the slanting wall and the straight outer wall on the house's north side, though a view from the exterior showed where a window had heen boarded up at a very remote date. The loft above the ceiling - which must have had a slanting floor - was likewise inaccessible. When Gilman climbed up a ladder to the cob-webbed level loft above the rest of the attic he found vestiges of a bygone aperture tightly and heavily covered with ancient planking and secured by the stout wooden pegs common in Colonial carpentry. No amount of persuasion, however, could induce the stolid landlord to let him investigate either of these two closed spaces.

As time wore along, his absorption in the irregular wall and ceiling of his room increased; for he began to read into the odd angles a mathematical significance which seemed to offer vague clues regarding their pnrpose. Old Keziah, he reflected, might have had excellent reasons for living in a room with peculiar angles; for was it not through certain angles that she claimed to have gone outside the boundaries of the world of space we know? His interest gradually veered away from the unplumbed voids beyond the slanting surfaces, since it now appeared that the purpose of those surfaces concerned the side he was on.

The touch of brain-fever and the dreams began early in February. For some time, apparently, the curious angles of Gilman's room had been having a strange, almost hypnotic effect on him; and as the bleak winter advanced he had found himself staring more and more intently at the corner where the down-slanting ceiling met the inward-slanting wall. About this period his inability to concentrate on his formal studies worried him considerably, his apprehensions about the mid-year examinations being very acute. But the exaggerated sense of bearing was scarcely less annoying. Life had become an insistent and almost unendurable cacophony, and there was that constant, terrifying impression of other sounds - perhaps from regions beyond life - trembling on the very brink of audibility. So far as concrete noises went, the rats in the ancient partitions were the worst. Sometimes their scratching seemed not only furtive but deliberate. When it came from beyond the slanting north wall it was mixed with a sort of dry rattling; and when it came from the century-closed loft above the slanting ceiling Gilman always braced himself as if expecting some horror which only bided its time before descending to engulf him utterly.

The dreams were wholly beyond the pale of sanity, and Gilman fell that they must be a result, jointly, of his studies in mathematics and in folklore. He had been thinking too much about the vague regions which his formulae told him must lie beyond the three dimensions we know, and about the possibility that old Keziah Mason - guided by some influence past all conjecture - had actually found the gate to those regions. The yellowed country records containing her testimony and that of her accusers were so damnably suggestive of things beyond human experience - and the descriptions of the darting little furry object which served as her familiar were so painfully realistic despite their incredible details.

That object - no larger than a good-sized rat and quaintly called by the townspeople "Brown Jenkins - seemed to have been the fruit of a remarkable case of sympathetic herd-delusion, for in 1692 no less than eleven persons had testified to glimpsing it. There were recent rumours, too, with a baffling and disconcerting amount of agreement. Witnesses said it had long hair and the shape of a rat, but that its sharp-toothed, bearded face was evilly human while its paws were like tiny human hands. It took messages betwixt old Keziah and the devil, and was nursed on the witch's blood, which it sucked like a vampire. Its voice was a kind of loathsome titter, and it could speak all languages. Of all the bizarre monstrosities in Gilman's dreams, nothing filled him with greater panic and nausea than this blasphemous and diminutive hybrid, whose image flitted across his vision in a form a thousandfold more hateful than anything his waking mind had deduced from the ancient records and the modern whispers.

Gilman's dreams consisted largely in plunges through limitless abysses of inexplicably coloured twilight and baffingly disordered sound; abysses whose material and gravitational properties, and whose relation to his own entity, he could not even begin to explain. He did not walk or climb, fly or swim, crawl or wriggle; yet always experienced a mode of motion partly voluntary and partly involuntary. Of his own condition he could not well judge, for sight of his arms, legs, and torso seemed always cut off by some odd disarrangement of perspective; but he felt that his physical organization and faculties were somehow marvellously transmuted and obliquely projected - though not without a certain grotesque relationship to his normal proportions and properties.

The abysses were by no means vacant, being crowded with indescribably angled masses of alien-hued substance, some of which appeared to be organic while others seemed inorganic. A few of the organic objects tended to awake vague memories in the back of his mind, though he could form no conscious idea of what they mockingly resembled or suggested. In the later dreams he began to distinguish separate categories into which the organic objects appeared to be divided, and which seemed to involve in each case a radically different species of conduct-pattern and basic motivation. Of these categories one seemed to him to include objects slightly less illogical and irrelevant in their motions than the members of the other categories.

All the objects - organic and inorganic alike - were totally beyond description or even comprehension. Gilman sometimes compared the inorganic matter to prisms, labyrinths, clusters of cubes and planes, and Cyclopean buildings; and the organic things struck him variously as groups of bubbles, octopi, centipedes, living Hindoo idols, and intricate arabesques roused into a kind of ophidian animation. Everything he saw was unspeakably menacing and horrible; and whenever one of the organic entities appeared by its motions to be noticing him, he felt a stark, hideous fright which generally jolted him awake. Of how the organic entities moved, he could tell no more than of how he moved himself. In time he observed a further mystery - the tendency of certain entities to appear suddenly out of empty space, or to disappear totally with equal suddenness. The shrieking, roaring confusion of sound which permeated the abysses was past all analysis as to pitch, timbre or rhythm; but seemed to be synchronous with vague visual changes in all the indefinite objects, organic and inorganic alike. Gilman had a constant sense of dread that it might rise to some unbearable degree of intensity during one or another of its obscure, relentlessly inevitable fluctuations.

But it was not in these vortices of complete alienage that he saw Brown Jenkin. That shocking little horror was reserved for certain lighter, sharper dreams which assailed him just before he dropped into the fullest depths of sleep. He would be lying in the dark fighting to keep awake when a faint lambent glow would seem to shimmer around the centuried room, showing in a violet mist the convergence of angled planes which had seized his brain so insidiously. The horror would appear to pop out of the rat-hole in the corner and patter toward him over the sagging, wide-planked floor with evil expectancy in its tiny, bearded human face; but mercifully, this dream always melted away before the object got close enough to nuzzle him. It had hellishly long, sharp, canine teeth; Gilman tried to stop up the rat-hole every day, but each night the real tenants of the partitions would gnaw away the obstruction, whatever it might be. Once he had the landlord nail a tin over it, but the next night the rats gnawed a fresh hole, in making which they pushed or dragged out into the room a curious little fragment of bone.

Gilman did not report his fever to the doctor, for he knew he could not pass the examinations if ordered to the college infirmary when every moment was needed for cramming. As it was, he failed in Calculus D and Advanced General Psychology, though not without hope of making up lost ground before the end of the term.

It was in March when the fresh element entered his lighter preliminary dreaming, and the nightmare shape of Brown Jenkin began to be companioned by the nebulous blur which grew more and more to resemble a bent old woman. This addition disturbed him more than he could account for, but finally he decided that it was like an ancient crone whom he had twice actually encountered in the dark tangle of lanes near the abandoned wharves. On those occasions the evil, sardonic, and seemingly unmotivated stare of the beldame had set him almost shivering - especially the first time when an overgrown rat darting across the shadowed mouth of a neighbouring alley had made him think irrationally of Brown Jenkin. Now, he reflected, those nervous fears were being mirrored in his disordered dreams. That the influence of the old house was unwholesome he could not deny, but traces of his early morbid interest still held him there. He argued that the fever alone was responsible for his nightly fantasies, and that when the touch abated he would be free from the monstrous visions. Those visions, however, were of absorbing vividness and convincingness, and whenever he awaked he retained a vague sense of having undergone much more than he remembered. He was hideously sure that in unrecalled dreams he had talked with both Brown Jenkin and the old woman, and that they had been urging him to go somewhere with them and to meet a third being of greater potency.

Toward the end of March he began to pick up in his mathematics, though the other stndies bothered him increasingly. He was getting an intuitive knack for solving Riemannian equations, and astonished Professor Upham by his comprehension of fourth-dimensional and other problems which had floored all the rest of the class. One afternoon there was a discussion of possible freakish curvatures in space, and of theoretical points of approach or even contact between our part of the cosmos and various other regions as distant as the farthest stars or the transgalactic gulfs themselves - or even as fabulously remote as the tentatively conceivable cosmic units beyond the whole Einsteinian space-time continuum. Gilman's handling of this theme filled everyone with admiration, even though some of his hypothetical illustrations caused an increase in the always plentiful gossip about his nervous and solitary eccentricity. What made the students shake their heads was his sober theory that a man might - given mathematical knowledge admittedly beyond all likelihood of human acquirement - step deliberately from the earth to any other celestial body which might lie at one of an infinity of specifc points in the cosmic pattern.

Such a step, he said, would require only two stages; first, a passage out of the three-dimensional sphere we know, and second, a passage back to the three-dimensional sphere at another point, perhaps one of infinite remoteness. That this could be accomplished without loss of life was in many cases conceivable. Any being from any part of three-dimensional space could probably survive in the fourth dimension; and its survival of the second stage would depend upon what alien part of three-dimensional space it might select for its re-entry. Denizens of some planets might be able to live on certain others - even planets belonging to other galaxies, or to similar dimensional phases of other space-time continua - though of course there must be vast numbers of mutually uninhabitable even though mathematically juxtaposed bodies or zones of space.

It was also possible that the inhabitants of a given dimensional realm could survive entry to many unknown and incomprehensible realms of additional or indefinitely multiplied dimensions - be they within or outside the given space-time continuum - and that the converse would be likewise true. This was a matter for speculation, though one could be fairly certain that the type of mutation involved in a passage from any given dimensional plane to the next higher one would not be destructive of biological integrity as we understand it. Gilman could not be very clear about his reasons for this last assumption, but his haziness here was more than overbalanced by his clearness on other complex points. Professor Upham especially liked his demonstration of the kinship of higher mathematics to certain phases of magical lore transmitted down the ages from an ineffable antiquity - human or pre-human - whose knowledge of the cosmos and its laws was greater than ours.

Around 1 April Gilman worried cosiderably because his slow fever did not abate. He was also troubled by what some of his fellow lodgers said about his sleep-walking. It seened that he was often absent from his bed and that the creaking of his floor at certain hours of the night was remarked by the man in the room below. This fellow also spoke of hearing the tread of shod feet in the night; but Gilman was sure he must have been mistaken in this, since shoes as well as other apparel were always precisely in place in the morning. One could develop all sorts of aural delusions in this morbid old house - for did not Gilman himself, even in daylight, now feel certain that noises other than rat-scratching came from the black voids beyond the slanting wall and above the slanting ceiling? His pathologically sensitive ears began to listen for faint footfalls in the immemorially sealed loft overhead, and sometimes the illusion of such things was agonizingly realistic.

However, he knew that he had actually become a somnambulist; for twice at night his room had been found vacant, though with all his clothing in place. Of this he had been assured by Frank Elwood, the one fellow-student whose poverty forced him to room in this squalid and unpopular house. Elwood had been studying in the small hours and had come up for help on a differential equation, only to find Gilman absent. It had been rather presumptuous of him to open the unlocked door after knocking had failed to rouse a response, but he had needed the help very badly and thought that his host would not mind a gentle prodding awake. On neither occasion, though, had Gilman been there; and when told of the matter he wondered where he could have been wandering, barefoot and with only his night clothes on. He resolved to investigate the matter if reports of his sleep-walking continued, and thought of sprinkling flour on the floor of the corridor to see where his footsteps might lead. The door was the only conceivable egress, for there was no possible foothold outside the narrow window.

As April advanced, Gilman's fever-sharpened ears were disturbed by the whining prayers of a superstitious loom-fixer named Joe Mazurewicz who had a room on the ground floor. Mazurewicz had told long, rambling stories about the ghost of old Keziah and the furry sharp-fanged, nuzzling thing, and had said he was so badly haunted at times that only his silver crucifix - given him for the purpose by Father Iwanicki of St. Stanislaus' Church - could bring him relief. Now he was praying because the Witches' Sabbath was drawing near. May Eve was Walpurgis Night, when hell's blackest evil roamed the earth and all the slaves of Satan gathered for nameless rites and deeds. It was always a very bad lime in Arkham, even though the fine folks up in Miskatonic Avenue and High and Saltonstall Streets pretended to know nothing about it. There would be bad doings, and a child or two would probably be missing. Joe knew about such things, for his grandmother in the old country had heard tales from her grandmother. It was wise to pray and count one's beads at this season. For three months Keziah and Brown Jenkin had not been near Joe's room, nor near Paul Choynski's room, nor anywhere else - and it meant no good when they held off like that. They must be up to something.

Gilman dropped in at the doctor's office on the sixteenth of the month, and was surprised to find his temperature was not as high as he had feared. The physician questioned him sharply, and advised him to see a nerve specialist. On reflection, he was glad he had not consulted the still more inquisitive college doctor. Old Waldron, who had curtailed his activities before, would have made him take a rest - an impossible thing now that he was so close to great results in his equations. He was certainly near the boundary between the known universe and the fourth dimension, and who could say how much farther he might go?

But even as these thoughts came to him he wondered at the source of his strange confidence. Did all of this perilous sense of immininence come from the formulae on the sheets he covered day by day? The soft, stealthy, imaginary footsteps in the sealed loft above were unnerving. And now, too, there was a growing feeling that somebody was constantly persuading him to do something terrible which he could not do. How about the somnambulism? Where did he go sometimes in the night? And what was that faint suggestion of sound which once in a while seemed to trickle through the confusion of identifiable sounds even in broad daylight and full wakefulness? Its rhythm did not correspond to anything on earth, unless perhaps to the cadence of one or two unmentionable Sabbat-chants, and sometimes he feared it corresponded to certain attributes of the vague shrieking or roaring in those wholly alien abysses of dream.

The dreams were meanwhile getting to be atrocious. In the lighter preliminary phase the evil old woman was now of fiendish distinctness, and Gilman knew she was the one who had frightened him in the slums. Her bent back, long nose, and shrivelled chin were unmistakable, and her shapeless brown garments were like those he remembered. The expression on her face was one of hideous malevolence and exultation, and when he awaked he could recall a croaking voice that persuaded and threatened. He must meet the Black Man and go with them all to the throne of Azathoth at the centre of ultimate chaos. That was what she said. He must sign the book of Azathoth in his own blood and take a new secret name now that his independent delvings had gone so far. What kept him from going with her and Brown Jenkin and the other to the throne of Chaos where the thin flutes pipe mindlessly was the fact that he had seen the name "Azathoth" in the Necronomicon, and knew it stood for a primal evil too horrible for description.

The old woman always appeared out of thin air near the corner where the downward slant met the inward slant. She seemed to crystallize at a point closer to the ceiling than to the floor, and every night she was a little nearer and more distinct before the dream shifted. Brown Jenkin, too was always a little nearer at the last, and its yellowish-white fangs glistened shockingly in that unearthly violet phosphorescence. Its shrill loathsome tittering struck more and more into Gilman's head, and he could remember in the morning how it had pronounced the words "Azathoth" and "Nyarlathotep".

In the deeper dreams everything was likewise more distinct, and Gilman felt that the twilight abysses around him were those of the fourth dimension. Those organic entities whose motions seemed least flagrantly irrelevant and unmotivated were probably projections of life-forms from our own planet, including human beings. What the others were in their own dimensional sphere or spheres he dared not try to think. Two of the less irrelevantly moving things - a rather large congeries of iridescent, prolately spheroidal bubbles and a very much smaller polyhedron of unknown colours and rapidly shifting surface angles - seemed to take notice of him and follow him about or float ahead as he changed position among the titan prisms, labyrinths, cube-and-plane clusters and quasi-buildings; and all the while the vague shrieking and roaring waxed louder and louder, as if approaching some monstrous climax of utterly unendurable intensity.

During the night of 19-20 April the new development occurred. Gilman was half involuntarily moving about in the twilight abysses with the bubble-mass and the small polyhedron floating ahead when he noticed the peculiarly regular angles formed by the edges of some gigantic neighbouring prism-clusters. In another second he was out of the abyss and standing tremulously on a rocky hillside bathed in intense, diffused green light. He was barefooted and in his nightclothes. and when he tried to walk discovered that he could scarcely lift his feet. A swirling vapour hid everything but the immediate sloping terrain from sight, and he shrank from the thought of the sounds, that might surge out of that vapour.

Then he saw the two shapes laboriously crawling toward him - the old woman and the little furry thing. The crone strained up to her knees and managed to cross her arms in a singular fashion, while Brown Jenkin pointed in a certain direction with a horribly anthropoid forepaw which it raised with evident difficulty. Spurred by an impulse he did not originate, Gilman dragged himself forward along a course determined by the angle of the old woman's arms and the direction of the small monstrosity's paw, and before he had shuffled three steps he was back in the twilight abysses. Geometrical shapes seethed around him, and he fell dizzily and interminably. At last he woke in his bed in the crazily angled garret of the eldritch old house.

He was good for nothing that morning, and stayed away from all his classes. Some unknown attraction was pulling his eyes in a seemingly irrelevant direction, for he could not help staring at a certain vacant spot on the floor. As the day advanced, the focus of his unseeing eyes changed position, and by noon he had conquered the impulse to stare at vacancy. About two o'clock he went out for lunch and as he threaded the narrow lanes of the city he found himself turning always to the southeast. Only an effort halted him at a cafeteria in Church Street, and after the meal he felt the unknown pull still more strongly.

He would have to consult a nerve specialist after all - perhaps there was a connection with his somnambulism - but meanwhile he might at least try to break the morbid spell himself. Undoubtedly he could still manage to walk away from the pull, so with great resolution he headed against it and dragged himself deliberately north along Garrison Street. By the time he had reached the bridge over the Miskatonic he was in a cold perspiration, and he clutched at the iron railing as he gazed upstream at the ill-regarded island whose regular lines of ancient standing stones brooded sullenly in the afternoon sunlight.

Then he gave a start. For there was a clearly visible living figure on that desolate island, and a second glance told him it was certainly the strange old woman whose sinister aspect had worked itself so disastrously into his dreams. The tall grass near her was moving, too, as if some other living thing were crawling close to the ground. When the old woman began to turn toward him he fled precipitately off the bridge and into the shelter of the town's labyrinthine waterfront alleys. Distant though the island was, he felt that a monstrous and invincible evil could flow from the sardonic stare of that bent, ancient figure in brown.

The southeastwards pull still held, and only with tremendous resolution could Gilman drag himself into the old house and up the rickety stairs. For hours he sat silent and aimless, with his eyes shifting gradually westward. About six o'clock his sharpened ears caught the whining prayers of Joe Mazurewicz two floors below, and in desperation he seized his hat and walked out into the sunset-golden streets, letting the now directly southward pull carry him where it might. An hour later darkness found him in the open fields beyond Hangman's Brook, with the glimmering spring stars shining ahead. The urge to walk was gradually changing to an urge to leap mystically into space, and suddenly he realized just where the source of the pull lay.

It was in the sky. A definite point among the stars had a claim on him and was calling him. Apparently it was a point somewhere between Hydra and Argo Navis, and he knew that he had been urged toward it ever since he had awaked soon after dawn. In the morning it had been underfoot, and now it was roughly south but stealing toward the west. What was the meaning of this new thing? Was he going mad? How long would it last? Again mustering his resolution, Gilman turned and dragged himself back to the sinister old house.

Mazurewicz was waiting for him at the door, and seemed both anxious and reluctant to whisper some fresh bit of superstition. It was about the witch-light. Joe had been out celebrating the night before - and it was Patriots' Day in Massachusetts - and had come home after midnight. Looking up at the house from outside, he had thought at first that Gilman's window was dark, but then he had seen the faint violet glow within. He wanted to warn the gentleman about that glow, for everybody in Arkham knew it was Keziah's witch-light which played near Brown Jenkin and the ghost of the old crone herself. He had not mentioned this before, but now he must tell about it because it meant that Keziah and her long-toothed familiar were haunting the young gentleman. Sometimes he and Paul Choynski and Landlord Dombrowski thought they saw that light seeping out of cracks in the sealed loft above the young gentleman's room, but they had all agreed not to talk about that. However, it would be better for the gentleman to take another room and get a crucifix from some good priest like Father Iwanicki.

As the man rambled on, Gilman felt a nameless panic clutch at his throat. He knew that Joe must have been half drunk when he came home the night before; yet the mention of a violet light in the garret window was of frightful import. It was a lambent glow of this sort which always played about the old woman and the small furry thing in those lighter, sharper dreams which prefaced his plunge into unknown abysses, and the thought that a wakeful second person could see the dream-luminance was utterly beyond sane harborage. Yet where had the fellow got such an odd notion? Had he himself talked as well as walked around the house in his sleep? No, Joe said, he had not - but he must check up on this. Perhaps Frank Elwood could tell him something, though he hated to ask.

Fever - wild dreams - somnambulism - illusions of sounds - a pull toward a point in the sky - and now a suspicion of insane sleep-talking! He must stop studying, see a nerve specialist, and take himself in hand. When he climbed to the second storey he paused at Elwood's door but saw that the other youth was out. Reluctantly he continued up to his garret room and sat down in the dark. His gaze was still pulled to the southward, but he also found himself listening intently for some sound in the closed loft above, and half imagining that an evil violet light seeped down through an infinitesimal crack in the low, slanting ceiling.

That night as Gilman slept, the violet light broke upon him with heightened intensity, and the old witch and small furry thing, getting closer than ever before, mocked him with inhuman squeals and devilish gestures. He was glad to sink into the vaguely roaring twilight abysses, though the pursuit of that iridescent bubble-congeries and that kaleidoscopic little polyhedron was menacing and irritating. Then came the shift as vast converging planes of a slippery-looking substance loomed above and below him - a shift which ended in a flash of delirium and a blaze of unknown, alien light in which yellow, carmine, and indigo were madly and inextricably blended.

He was half lying on a high, fantastically balustraded terrace above a boundless jungle of outlandish, incredible peaks, balanced planes, domes, minarets, horizontal disks poised on pinnacles, and numberless forms of still greater wildness - some of stone and some of metal - which glittered gorgeously in the mixed, almost blistering glare from a poly-chromatic sky. Looking upward he saw three stupendous disks of flame, each of a different hue, and at a different height above an infinitely distant curving horizon of low mountains. Behind him tiers of higher terraces towered aloft as far as he could see. The city below stretched away to the limits of vision, and he hoped that no sound would well up from it.

The pavement from which he easily raised himself was a veined polished stone beyond his power to identify, and the tiles were cut in bizarre-angled shapes which struck himm as less asymmetrical than based on some unearthly symmetry whose laws he could not comprehend. The balustrade was chest-high, delicate, and fantastically wrought, while along the rail were ranged at short intervals little figures of grotesque design and exquisite workmanship. They, like the whole balustrade, seemed to be made of some sort of shining metal whose colour could not be guessed in the chaos of mixed effulgences, and their nature utterly defied conjecture. They represented some ridged barrel-shaped objects with thin horizontal arms radiating spoke-like from a central ring and with vertical knobs or bulbs projecting from the head and base of the barrel. Each of these knobs was the hub of a system of five long, flat, triangularly tapering arms arranged around it like the arms of a starfish - nearly horizontal, but curving slightly away from the central barrel. The base of the bottom knob was fused to the long railing with so delicate a point of contact that several figures had been broken off and were missing. The figures were about four and a half inches in height, while the spiky arms gave them a maximum diameter of about two and a half inches.

When Gilman stood up, the tiles felt hot to his bare feet. He was wholly alone, and his first act was to walk to the balustrade and look dizzily down at the endless, Cyclopean city almost two thousand feet below. As he listened he thought a rhythmic confusion of faint musical pipings covering a wide tonal range welled up from the narrow streets beneath, and he wished he might discern the denizens of the place. The sight turned him giddy after a while, so that he would have fallen to the pavement had he not clutched instinctively at the lustrous balustrade. His right hand fell on one of the projecting figures, the touch seeming to steady him slightly. It was too much, however, for the exotic delicacy of the metal-work, and the spiky figure snapped off under his grasp. Still half dazed, he continued to clutch it as his other hand seized a vacant space on the smooth railing.

But now his over-sensitive ears caught something behind him, and he looked back across the level terrace. Approaching him softly though without apparent furtiveness were five figures, two of which were the sinister old woman and the fanged, furry little animal. The other three were what sent him unconscious; for they were living entities about eight feet high, shaped precisely like the spiky images on the balustrade, and propelling themselves by a spider-like wriggling of their lower set of starfish-arms.

Gilman awoke in his bed, drenched by a cold perspiration and with a smarting sensation in his face, hands and feet. Springing to the floor, he washed and dressed in frantic haste, as if it were necessary for him to get out of the house as quickly as possible. He did not know where he wished to go, but felt that once more he would have to sacrifice his classes. The odd pull toward that spot in the sky between Hydra and Argo had abated, but another of even greater strength had taken its place. Now he felt that he must go north - infinitely north. He dreaded to cross the bridge that gave a view of the desolate island in the Miskatonic, so went over the Peabody Avenue bridge. Very often he stumbled, for his eyes and ears were chained to an extremely lofty point in the blank blue sky.

After about an hour he got himself under better control, and saw that he was far from the city. All around him stretched the bleak emptiness of salt marshes, while the narrow road ahead led to Innsmouth - that ancient, half-deserted town which Arkham people were so curiously unwilling to visit. Though the northward pull had not diminished, he resisted it as he had resisted the other pull, and finally found that he could almost balance the one against the other. Plodding back to town and getting some coffee at a soda fountain, he dragged himself into the public library and browsed aimlessly among the lighter magazines. Once he met some friends who remarked how oddly sunburned he looked, but he did not tell them of his walk. At three o'clock he took some lunch at a restaurant, noting meanwhile that the pull had either lessened or divided itself. After that he killed the time at a cheap cinema show, seeing the inane performance over and over again without paying any attention to it.

About nine at night he drifted homeward and shuffled into the ancient house. Joe Mazurewicz was whining unintelligible prayers, and Gilman hastened up to his own garret chamber without pausing to see if Elwood was in. It was when he turned on the feeble electric light that the shock came. At once he saw there was something on the table which did not belong there, and a second look left no room for doubt. Lying on its side - for it could not stand up alone - was the exotic spiky figure which in his monstrous dream he had broken off the fantastic balustrade. No detail was missing. The ridged, barrel-shaped center, the thin radiating arms, the knobs at each end, and the flat, slightly outward-curving starfish-arms spreading from those knobs - all were there. In the electric light the colour seemed to be a kind of iridescent grey veined with green; and Gilman could see amidst his horror and bewilderment that one of the knobs ended in a jagged break, corresponding to its former point of attachment to the dream-railing.

Only his tendency toward a dazed stupor prevented him from screaming aloud. This fusion of dream and reality was too much to bear. Still dazed, he clutched at the spiky thing and staggered downstairs to Landlord Dombrowski's quarters. The whining prayers of the superstitious loom-fixer were still sounding through the mouldy halls, but Gilman did not mind them now. The landlord was in, and greeted him pleasantly. No, he had not seen that thing before and did not know anything about it. But his wife had said she found a funny tin thing in one of the beds when she fixed the rooms at noon, and maybe that was it. Dombrowski called her, and she waddled in. Yes, that was the thing. She had found it in the young gentleman's bed - on the side next the wall. It had looked very queer to her, but of course the young gentleman had lots of queer things in his room - books and curios and pictures and markings on paper. She certainly knew nothing about it.

So Gilman climbed upstairs again in mental turmoil, convinced that he was either still dreaming or that his somnambulism had run to incredible extremes and led him to depredations in unknown places. Where had he got this outr� thing? He did not recall seeing it in any museum in Arkham. It must have been somewhere, though; and the sight of it as he snatched it in his sleep must have caused the odd dream-picture of the balustraded terrace. Next day he would make some very guarded inquiries - and perhaps see the nerve specialist.

Meanwhile he would try to keep track of his somnambulism. As he went upstairs and across the garret hall he sprinkled about some flour which he had borrowed - with a frank admission as to its purpose - from the landlord. He had stopped at Elwood's door on the way, but had found all dark within. Entering his room, he placed the spiky thing on the table, and lay down in complete mental and physical exhaustion without pausing to undress. From the closed loft above the slating ceiling he thought he heard a faint scratching and padding, but he was too disorganized even to mind it. That cryptical pull from the north was getting very strong again, though it seemed now to come from a lower place in the sky.

In the dazzling violet light of dream the old woman and the fanged, furry thing came again and with a greater distinctness than on any former occasion. This time they actually reached him, and he felt the crone's withered claws clutching at him. He was pulled out of bed and into empty space, and for a moment he heard a rhythmic roaring and saw the twilight amorphousness of the vague abysses seething around him. But that moment was very brief, for presently he was in a crude, windowless little space with rough beams and planks rising to a peak just above his head, and with a curious slanting floor underfoot. Propped level on that floor were low cases full of books of every degree of antiquity and disintegration, and in the centre were a table and bench, both apparently fastened in place. Small objects of unknown shape and nature were ranged on the tops of the cases, and in the flaming violet light Gilman thought he saw a counterpart of the spiky image which had puzzled him so horribly. On the left the floor fell abruptly away, leaving a black triangular gulf out of which, after a second's dry rattling, there presently climbed the hateful little furry thing with the yellow fangs and bearded human face.

The evilly-grinning beldame still clutched him, and beyond the table stood a figure he had never seen before - a tall, lean man of dead black colouration but without the slightest sign of negroid features: wholly devoid of either hair or beard, and wearing as his only garment a shapeless robe of some heavy black fabric. His feet were indistinguishable because of the table and bench, but he must have been shod, since there was a clicking whenever he changed position. The man did not speak, and bore no trace of expression on his small, regular features. He merely pointed to a book of prodigious size which lay open on the table, while the beldame thrust a huge grey quill into Gilman's right hand. Over everything was a pall of intensely maddening fear, and the climax was reached when the furry thing ran up the dreamer's clothing to his shoulders and then down his left arm, finally biting him sharply in the wrist just below his cuff. As the blood spurted from this wound Gilman lapsed into a faint.

He awaked on the morning of the twenty-second with a pain in his left wrist, and saw that his cuff was brown with dried blood. His recollections were very confused, but the scene with the black man in the unknown space stood out vividly. The rats must have bitten him as he slept, giving rise to the climax of that frightful dream. Opening the door, he saw that the flour on the corridor floor was undisturbed except for the huge prints of the loutish fellow who roomed at the other end of the garret. So he had not been sleep-walking this time. But something would have to be done about those rats. He would speak to the landlord about them. Again he tried to stop up the hole at the base of the slanting wall, wedging in a candlestick which seemed of about the right size. His ears were ringing horribly, as if with the residual echoes of some horrible noise heard in dreams.

As he bathed and changed clothes he tried to recall what he had dreamed after the scene in the violet-litten space, but nothing definite would crystallize in his mind. That scene itself must have corresponded to the sealed loft overhead, which had begun to attack his imagination so violently, but later impressions were faint and hazy. There were suggestions of the vague, twilight abysses, and of still vaster, blacker abysses beyond them - abysses in which all fixed suggestions were absent. He had been taken there by the bubble-congeries and the little polyhedron which always dogged him; but they, like himself, had changed to wisps of mist in this farther void of ultimate blackness. Something else had gone on ahead - a larger wisp which now and then condensed into nameless approximations of form - and he thought that their progress had not been in a straight line, but rather along the alien curves and spirals of some ethereal vortex which obeyed laws unknown to the physics and mathematics of any conceivable cosmos. Eventually there had been a hint of vast, leaping shadows, of a monstrous, half-acoustic pulsing, and of the thin, monotonous piping of an unseen flute - but that was all. Gilman decided he had picked up that last conception from what he had read in the Necronomicon about the mindless entity Azathoth, which rules all time and space from a black throne at the centre of Chaos.

When the blood was washed away the wrist wound proved very slight, and Gilman puzzled over the location of the two tiny punctures. It occurred to him that there was no blood on the bedspread where he had lain - which was very curious in view of the amount on his skin and cuff. Had he been sleep-walking within his room, and had the rat bitten him as he sat in some chair or paused in some less rational position? He looked in every corner for brownish drops or stains, but did not find any. He had better, he thought, spinkle flour within the room as well as outside the door - though after all no further proof of his sleep-walking was needed. He knew he did walk and the thing to do now was to stop it. He must ask Frank Elwood for help. This morning the strange pulls from space seemed lessened, though they were replaced by another sensation even more inexplicable. It was a vague, insistent impulse to fly away from his present situation, but held not a hint of the specific direction in which he wished to fly. As he picked up the strange spiky image on the table he thought the older northward pull grew a trifle stronger; but even so, it was wholly overruled by the newer and more bewildering urge.

He took the spiky image down to Elwood's room, steeling himself against the whines of the loom-fixer which welled up from the ground floor. Elwood was in, thank heaven, and appeared to be stirring about. There was time for a little conversation before leaving for breakfast and college, so Gilman hurriedly poured forth an account of his recent dreams and fears. His host was very sympathetic, and agreed that something ought to be done. He was shocked by his guest's drawn, haggard aspect, and noticed the queer, abnormal-looking sunburn which others had remarked during the past week.

There was not much, though, that he could say. He had not seen Gilman on any sleep-walking expedition, and had no idea what the curious image could be. He had, though, heard the French-Canadian who lodged just under Gilman talking to Mazurewicz one evening. They were telling each other how badly they dreaded the coming of Walpurgis Night, now only a few days off; and were exchanging pitying comments about the poor, doomed young gentleman. Desrochers, the fellow under Gilman's room, had spoken of nocturnal footsteps shod and unshod, and of the violet light he saw one night when he had stolen fearfully up to peer through Gilman's keyhole. He had not dared to peer, he told Mazurewicz, after he had glimpsed that light through the cracks around the door. There had been soft talking, too - and as he began to describe it his voice had sunk to an inaudible whisper.

Elwood could not imagine what had set these superstitious creatures gossiping, but supposed their imaginations had been roused by Gilman's late hours and somnolent walking and talking on the one hand, and by the nearness of traditionally-feared May Eve on the other hand. That Gilman talked in his sleep was plain, and it was obviously from Desrochers' keyhole listenings that the delusive notion of the violet dream-light had got abroad. These simple people were quick to imagine they had seen any odd thing they had heard about. As for a plan of action - Gilman had better move down to Elwood's room and avoid sleeping alone. Elwood would, if awake, rouse him whenever he began to talk or rise in his sleep. Very soon, too, he must see the specialist. Meanwhile they would take the spiky image around to the various museums and to certain professors; seeking identification and slating that it had been found in a public rubbish-can. Also, Dombrowski must attend to the poisoning of those rats in the walls.

Braced up by Elwood's companionship, Gilman attended classes that day. Strange urges still tugged at him, but he could sidetrack them with considerable success. During a free period he showed the queer image to several professors, all of whom were intensely interested, though none of them could shed any light upon its nature or origin. That night he slept on a couch which Elwood had had the landlord bring to the second-storey room, and for the first time in weeks was wholly free from disquieting dreams. But the feverishness still hung on, and the whines of the loom-fixer were an unnerving influence.

During the next few days Gilman enjoyed an almost perfect immunity from morbid manifestations. He had, Elwood said, showed no tendency to talk or rise in his sleep; and meanwhile the landlord was putting rat-poison everywhere. The only disturbing element was the talk among the superstitious foreigners, whose imaginations had become highly excited. Mazurewicz was always trying to make him get a crucifix, and finally forced one upon him which he said had been blessed by the good Father Iwanicki. Desrochers, too, had something to say; in fact, he insisted that cautious steps had sounded in the now vacant room above him on the first and second nights of Gilinan's absence from it. Paul Choynski thought he heard sounds in the halls and on the stairs at night, and claimed that his door had been softly tried, while Mrs. Dombrowski vowed she had seen Brown Jenkin for the first time since All-Hallows. But such na�ve reports could mean very little, and Gilman let the cheap metal crucifix hang idly from a knob on his host's dresser.

For three days Gilman and Elwood canvassed the local museums in an effort to identify the strange spiky image, but always without success. In every quarter, however, interest was intense; for the utter alienage of the thing was a tremendous challenge to scientific curiosity. One of the small radiating arms was broken off and subjected to chemical analysis. Professor Ellery found platinum, iron and tellurium in the strange alloy; but mixed with these were at least three other apparent elements of high atomic weight which chemistry was absolutely powerless to classify. Not only did they fail to correspond with any known element, but they did not even fit the vacant places reserved for probable elements in the periodic system. The mystery remains unsolved to this day, though the image is on exhibition at the museum of Miskatonic University.

On the morning of April twenty-seventh a fresh rat-bole appeared in the room where Gilman was a guest, but Dombrowski tinned it up during the day. The poison was not having much effect, for scratchings and scurryings in the walls were virtually undiminished.

Elwood was out late that night, and Gilman waited up for him. He did not wish to go to sleep in a room alone - especially since he thought he had glimpsed in the evening twilight the repellent old woman whose image had become so horribly transferred to his dreams. He wondered who she was, and what had been near her rattling the tin can in a rubbish-heap at the mouth of a squalid courtyard. The crone had seemed to notice him and leer evilly at him - though perhaps this was merely his imagination.

The next day both youths felt very tired, and knew they would sleep like logs when night came. In the evening they drowsily discussed the mathematical studies which had so completely and perhaps harmfully engrossed Gilman, and speculated about the linkage with ancient magic and folklore which seemed so darkly probable. They spoke of old Keziah Mason, and Elwood agreed that Gilman had good scientific grounds for thinking she might have stumbled on strange and significant information. The hidden cults to which these witches belonged often guarded and handed down surprising secrets from elder, forgotten eons; and it was by no means impossible that Keziah had actually mastered the art of passing through dimensional gates. Tradition emphasizes the uselessness of material barriers in halting a witch's notions, and who can say what underlies the old tales of broomstick rides through the night?

Whether a modern student could ever gain similar powers from mathematical research alone, was still to be seen. Suceess, Gilman added, might lead to dangerous and unthinkable situations, for who could foretell the conditions pervading an adjacent but normally inaccessible dimension? On the other hand, the picturesque possibilities were enormous. Time could not exist in certain belts of space, and by entering and remaining in such a belt one might preserve one's life and age indefinitely; never suffering organic metabolism or deterioration except for slight amounts incurred during visits to one's own or similar planes. One might, for example, pass into a timeless dimension and emerge at some remote period of the earth's history as young as before.

Whether anybody had ever managed to do this, one could hardly conjecture with any degree of authority. Old legends are hazy and ambiguous, and in historic times all attempts at crossing forbidden gaps seem complicated by strange and terrible alliances with beings and messengers from outside. There was the immemorial figure of the deputy or messenger of hidden and terrible powers - the "Black Man" of the witch-cult, and the "Nyarlathotep" of the Necronomicon. There was, too, the baffling problem of the lesser messengers or intermediaries - the quasi-animals and queer hybrids which legend depicts as witches' familiars. As Gilman and Elwood retired, too sleepy to argue further, they heard Joe Mazurewicz reel into the house half drunk, and shuddered at the desperate wildness of his whining prayers.

That night Gilman saw the violet light again. In his dream he had heard a scratching and gnawing in the partitions, and thought that someone fumbled clumsily at the latch. Then he saw the old woman and the small furry thing advancing toward him over the carpeted floor. The beldame's face was alight with inhuman exultation, and the little yellow-toothed morbidity tittered mockingly as it pointed at the heavily-sleeping form of Elwood on the other couch across the room. A paralysis of fear stifled all attempts to cry out. As once before, the hideous crone seized Gilman by the shoulders, yanking him out of bed and into empty space. Again the infinitude of the shrieking abysses flashed past him, but in another second he thought he was in a dark, muddy, unknown alley of foetid odors with the rotting walls of ancient houses towering up on every hand.

Ahead was the robed black man he had seen in the peaked space in the other dream, while from a lesser distance the old woman was beckoning and grimacing imperiously. Brown Jenkin was rubbing itself with a kind of affectionate playfulness around the ankles of the black man, which the deep mud largely concealed. There was a dark open doorway on the right, to which the black man silently pointed. Into this the grinning crone started, dragging Gilman after her by his pajama sleeves. There were evil-smelling staircases which creaked ominously, and on which the old woman seemed to radiate a faint violet light; and finally a door leading off a landing. The crone fumbled with the latch and pushed the door open, motioning to Gilman to wait, and disappearing inside the black aperture.

The youth's over-sensitive ears caught a hideous strangled cry, and presently the beldame came out of the room bearing a small, senseless form which she thrust at the dreamer as if ordering him to carry it. The sight of this form, and the expression on its face, broke the spell. Still too dazed to cry out, he plunged recklessly down the noisome staircase and into the mud outside, halting only when seized and choked by the waiting black man. As consciousness departed he heard the faint, shrill tittering of the fanged, rat-like abnormality.

On the morning of the twenty-ninth Gilman awaked into a maelstrom of horror. The instant he opened his eyes he knew something was terribly wrong, for he was back in his old garret room with the slanting wall and ceiling, sprawled on the now unmade bed. His throat was aching inexplicably, and as he struggled to a sitting posture he saw with growing fright that his feet and pajama bottoms were brown with caked mud. For the moment his recollections were hopelessly hazy, but he knew at least that he must have been sleep-walking. Elwood had been lost too deeply in slumber to hear and stop him. On the floor were confused muddy prints, but oddly enough they did not extend all the way to the door. The more Gilman looked at them, the more peculiar they seemed; for in addition to those he could recognize as his there were some smaller, almost round markings - such as the legs of a large chair or a table might make, except that most of them tended to be divided into halves. There were also some curious muddy rat-tracks leading out of a fresh hole and back into it again. Utter bewilderment and the fear of madness racked Gilman as he staggered to the door and saw that there were no muddy prints outside. The more he remembered of his hideous dream the more terrified he felt, and it added to his desperation to hear Joe Mazurewicz chanting mournfully two floors below.

Descending to Elwood's room he roused his still-sleeping host and began telling of how he had found himself, but Elwood could form no idea of what might really have happened. Where Gilman could have been, how he got back to his room without making tracks in the hall, and how the muddy, furniture-like prints came to be mixed with his in the garret chamber, were wholly beyond conjecture. Then there were those dark, livid marks on his throat, as if he had tried to strangle himself. He put his hands up to them, but found that they did not even approximately fit. While they were talking, Desrochers dropped in to say that he had heard a terrific clattering overhead in the dark small hours. No, there had been no one on the stairs after midnight, though just before midnight he had heard faint footfalls in the garret, and cautiously descending steps he did not like. It was, he added, a very bad time of year for Arkham. The young gentleman had better be sure to wear the circifix Joe Mazurewicz had given him. Even the daytime was not safe, for after dawn there had been strange sounds in the house - especially a thin, childish wail hastily choked off.

Gilman mechanically attended classes that morning, but was wholly unable to fix his mind on his studies. A mood of hideous apprehension and expectancy had seized him, and he seemed to be awaiting the fall of some annihilating blow. At noon he lunched at the University spa, picking up a paper from the next seat as he waited for dessert. But he never ate that dessert; for an item on the paper's first page left him limp, wild-eyed, and able only to pay his check and stagger back to Elwood's room.

There had been a strange kidnapping the night before in Orne's Gangway, and the two-year-old child of a clod-like laundry worker named Anastasia Wolejko had completely vanished from sight. The mother, it appeared, had feared the event for some time; but the reasons she assigned for her fear were so grotesque that no one took them seriously. She had, she said, seen Brown Jenkin about the place now and then ever since early in March, and knew from its grimaces and titterings that little Ladislas must be marked for sacrifice at the awful Sabbat on Walpurgis Night. She had asked her neighbour Mary Czanek to sleep in the room and try to protect the child, but Mary had not dared. She could not tell the police, for they never believed such things. Children had been taken that way every year ever since she could remember. And her friend Pete Stowacki would not help because he wanted the child out of the way.

But what threw Gilman into a cold perspiration was the report of a pair of revellers who had been walking past the mouth of the gangway just after midnight. They admitted they had been drunk, but both vowed they had seen a crazily dressed trio furtively entering the dark passageway. There had, they said, been a huge robed negro, a little old woman in rags, and a young white man in his night-clothes. The old woman had been dragging the youth, while around the feet of the negro a tame rat was rubbing and weaving in the brown mud.

Gilman sat in a daze all the afternoon, and Elwood - who had meanwhile seen the papers and formed terrible conjectures from them - found him thus when he came home. This time neither could doubt but that something hideously serious was closing in around them. Between the phantasms of nightmare and the realities of the objective world a monstrous and unthinkable relationship was crystallizing, and only stupendous vigilance could avert still more direful developments. Gilman must see a specialist sooner or later, but not just now, when all the papers were full of this kidnapping business.

Just what had really happened was maddeningly obscure, and for a moment both Gilman and Elwood exchanged whispered theories of the wildest kind. Had Gilman unconsciously succeeded better than he knew in his studies of space and its dimensions? Had he actually slipped outside our sphere to points unguessed and unimaginable? Where - if anywhere - had he been on those nights of demoniac alienage? The roaring twilight abysses - the green hillside - the blistering terrace - the pulls from the stars - the ultimate black vortex - the black man - the muddy alley and the stairs - the old witch and the fanged, furry horror - the bubble-congeries and the little polyhedron - the strange sunburn - the wrist-wound - the unexplained image - the muddy feet - the throat marks - the tales and fears of the superstitious foreigners - what did all this mean? To what extent could the laws of sanity apply to such a case?

There was no sleep for either of them that night, but next day they both cut classes and drowsed. This was April thirtieth, and with the dusk would come the hellish Sabbat-time which all the foreigners and the superstitious old folk feared. Mazurewicz came home at six o'clock and said people at the mill were whispering that the Walpurgis revels would be held in the dark ravine beyond Meadow Hill where the old white stone stands in a place queerly devoid of all plant-life. Some of them had even told the police and advised them to look there for the missing Wolejko child, but they did not believe anything would be done. Joe insisted that the poor young gentleman wear his nickel-chained crucifix, and Gilman put it on and dropped it inside his shirt to humour the fellow.

Late at night the two youths sat drowsing in their chairs, lulled by the praying of the loom-fixer on the floor below. Gilman listened as he nodded, his preternaturally sharpened hearing seeming to strain for some subtle, dreaded murmur beyond the noises in the ancient house. Unwholesome recollections of things in the Necronomicon and the Black Book welled up, and he found himself swaying to infandous rhythms said to pertain to the blackest ceremonies of the Sabbat and to have an origin outside the time and space we comprehend.

Presently he realized what he was listening for - the hellish chant of the celebrants in the distant black valley. How did he know so much about what they expected? How did he know the time when Nahab and her acolyte were due to bear the brimming bowl which would follow the black cock and the black goat? He saw that Elwood had dropped asleep, and tried to call out and waken him. Something, however, closed his throat. He was not his own master. Had he signed the black man's book after all?

Then his fevered, abnormal hearing caught the distant, windborne notes. Over miles of hill and field and alley they came, but he recognized them none the less. The fires must be lit, and the dancers must be starting in. How could he keep himself from going? What was it that had enmeshed him? Mathematics - folklore - the house - old Keziah - Brown Jenkin ... and now he saw that there was a fresh rat-hole in the wall near his couch. Above the distant chanting and the nearer praying of Joe Mazurewicz came another sound - a stealthy, determined scratching in the partitions. He hoped the electric lights would not go out. Then he saw the fanged, bearded little face in the rat-hole - the accursed little face which he at last realized bore such a shocking, mocking resemblance to old Keziah's - and heard the faint fumbling at the door.

The screaming twilight abysses flashed before him, and he felt himself helpless in the formless grasp of the iridescent bubble-congeries. Ahead raced the small, kaleidoscopic polyhedron and all through the churning void there was a heightening and acceleration of the vague tonal pattern which seemed to foreshadow some unutterable and unendurable climax. He seemed to know what was coming - the monstrons burst of Walpurgis-rhythm in whose cosmic timbre would be concentrated all the primal, ultimate space-time seethings which lie behind the massed spheres of matter and sometimes break forth in measured reverberations that penetrate faintly to every layer of entity and give hideous significance throughout the worlds to certain dreaded periods.

But all this vanished in a second. He was again in the cramped, violet-litten peaked space with the slanting floor, the low cases of ancient books, the bench and table, the queer objects, and the triangular gulf at one side. On the table lay a small white figure - an infant boy, unclothed and unconscious - while on the other side stood the monstrous, leering old woman with a gleaming, grotesque-hafted knife in her right hand, and a queerly proportioned pale metal bowl covered with curiously chased designs and having delicate lateral handles in her left. She was intoning some croaking ritual in a language which Gilman could not understand, but which seemed like something guardedly quoted in the Necronomicon.

As the scene grew clearer he saw the ancient crone bend forward and extend the empty bowl across the table - and unable to control his own emotions, he reached far forward and took it in both hands, noticing as he did so its comparative lightness. At the same moment the disgusting form of Brown Jenkin scrambled up over the brink of the triangular black gulf on his left. The crone now motioned him to hold the bowl in a certain position while she raised the huge, grotesque knife above the small white victim as high as her right hand could reach. The fanged, furry thing began tittering a continuation of the unknown ritual, while the witch croaked loathsome responses. Gilman felt a gnawing poignant abhorrence shoot through his mental and emotional paralysis, and the light metal bowl shook in his grasp. A second later the downward motion of the knife broke the spell conpletely, and he dropped the bowl with a resounding bell-like clangour while his hands darted out frantically to stop the monstrous deed.

In an instant he had edged up the slanting floor around the end of the table and wrenched the knife from the old woman's claws; sending it clattering over the brink of the narrow triangular gulf. In another instant, however, matters were reversed; for those murderous claws had locked themselves tightly around his own throat, while the wrinkled face was twisted with insane fury. He felt the chain of the cheap crucifix grinding into his neck, and in his peril wondered how the sight of the object itself would affect the evil creature. Her strength was altogether superhuman, but as she continued her choking he reached feebly in his shirt and drew out the metal symbol, snapping the chain and pulling it free.

At sight of the device the witch seemed struck with panic, and her grip relaxed long enough to give Gilman a chance to break it entirely. He pulled the steel-like claws from his neck, and would have dragged the beldame over the edge of the gulf had not the claws received a fresh access of strength and closed in again. This time he resolved to reply in kind, and his own hands reached out for the creature's throat. Before she saw what he was doing he had the chain of the crucifix twisted about her neck, and a moment later he had tightened it enough to cut off her breath. During her last struggle he felt something bite at his ankle, and saw that Brown Jenkin had come to her aid. With one savage kick he sent the morbidity over the edge of the gulf and heard it whimper on some level far below.

Whether he had killed the ancient crone he did not know, but he let her rest on the floor where she had fallen. Then, as he turned away, he saw on the table a sight which nearly snapped the last thread of his reason. Brown Jenkin, tough of sinew and with four tiny hands of demoniac dexterity, had been busy while the witch was throttling him, and his efforts had been in vain. What he had prevented the knife from doing to the victim's chest, the yellow fangs of the furry blasphemy had done to a wrist - and the bowl so lately on the floor stood full beside the small lifeless body.

In his dream-delirium Gilman heard the hellish alien-rhythmed chant of the Sabbat coming from an infinite distance, and knew the black man must be there. Confused memories mixed themselves with his mathematics, and he believed his subconscious mind held the angles which he needed to guide him back to the normal world alone and unaided for the first time. He felt sure he was in the immemorially sealed loft above his own room, but whether he could ever escape through the slanting floor or the long-stooped egress he doubted greatly. Besides, would not an escape from a dream-loft bring him merely into a dream-house - an abnormal projection of the actual place he sought? He was wholly bewildered as to the relation betwixt dream and reality in all his experiences.

The passage through the vague abysses would be frightful, for the Walpurgis-rhythm would be vibrating, and at last he would have to hear that hitherto-veiled cosmic pulsing which he so mortally dreaded. Even now he could detect a low, monstrous shaking whose tempo he suspected all too well. At Sabbat-time it always mounted and reached through to the worlds to summon the initiate to nameless rites. Half the chants of the Sabbat were patterned on this faintly overheard pulsing which no earthly ear could endure in its unveiled spatial fulness. Gilman wondered, too, whether he could trust his instincts to take him back to the right part of space. How could he be sure he would not land on that green-litten hillside of a far planet, on the tessellated terrace above the city of tentacled monsters somewhere beyond the galaxy or in the spiral black vortices of that ultimate void of Chaos where reigns the mindless demon-sultan Azathoth?

Just before he made the plunge the violet light went out and left him in utter blackness. The witch - old Keziah - Nahab - that must have meant her death. And mixed with the distant chant of the Sabbat and the whimpers of Brown Jenkin in the gulf below he thought he heard another and wilder whine from unknown depths. Joe Mazurewicz - the prayers against the Crawling Chaos now turning to an inexplicably triumphant shriek - worlds of sardonic actuality impinging on vortices of febrile dream - I�! Shub-Niggurath! The Goat with a Thousand Young...

They found Gilman on the floor of his queerly-angled old garret room long before dawn, for the terrible cry had brought Desrochers and Choynski and Dombrowski and Mazurewicz at once, and had even wakened the soundly sleeping Elwood in his chair. He was alive, and with open, staring eyes, but seemed largely unconscious. On his throat were the marks of murderous hands, and on his left ankle was a distressing rat-bite. His clothing was badly rumpled and Joe's crucifix was missing, Elwood trembled, afraid even to speculate what new form his friend's sleep-walking had taken. Mazurewicz seemed half dazed because of a "sign" he said he had had in response to his prayers, and he crossed himself frantically when the squealing and whimpering of a rat sounded from beyond the slanting partition.

When the dreamer was settled on his couch in Elwood's room they sent for Doctor Malkowski - a local practitioner who would repeat no tales where they might prove embarrassing - and he gave Gilman two hypodermic injections which caused him to relax in something like natural drowsiness. During the day the patient regained consciousness at times and whispered his newest dream disjointedly to Elwood. It was a painful process, and at its very start brought out a fresh and disconcerting fact.

Gilman - whose ears had so lately possessed an abnormal sensitiveness - was now stone-deaf. Doctor Malkowski, summoned again in haste, told Elwood that both ear-drums were ruptured, as if by the impact of some stupendous sound intense beyond all human conception or endurance. How such a sound could have been heard in the last few hours without arousing all the Miskatonic Valley was more than the honest physician could say.

Elwood wrote his part of the colloquy on paper, so that a fairly easy communication was maintained. Neither knew what to make of the whole chaotic business, and decided it would be better if they thought as little as possible about it. Both, though, agreed that they must leave this ancient and accursed house as soon as it could be arranged. Evening papers spoke of a police raid on some curious revellers in a ravine beyond Meadow Hill just before dawn, and mentioned that the white stone there was an object of age-long superstitious regard. Nobody had been caught, but among the scattering fugitives had been glimpsed a huge negro. In another column it was stated that no trace of the missing child Ladislas Wolejko had been found.

The crowning horror came that very night. Elwood will never forget it, and was forced to stay out of college the rest of the term because of the resulting nervous breakdown. He had thought he heard rats in the partition all the evening, but paid little attention to them. Then, long after both he and Gilman had retired, the atrocious shrieking began. Elwood jumped up, turned on the lights and rushed over to his guest's couch. The occupant was emitting sounds of veritably inhuman nature, as if racked by some torment beyond description. He was writhing under the bedclothes, and a great stain was beginning to appear on the blankets.

Elwood scarcely dared to touch him, but gradually the screaming and writhing subsided. By this time Dombrowski, Choynski, Desrochers, Mazurewicz, and the top-floor lodger were all crowding into the doorway, and the landlord had sent his wife back to telephone for Doctor Malkowaki. Everybody shrieked when a large rat-like form suddenly jumped out from beneath the ensanguined bedclothes and scuttled across the floor to a fresh, open hole close by. When the doctor arrived and began to pull down those frightful covers Walter Gilman was dead.

It would be barbarous to do more than suggest what had killed Gilman. There had been virtually a tunnel through his body - something had eaten his heart out. Dombrowski, frantic at the failure of his rat-poisoning efforts, cast aside all thought of his lease and within a week had moved with all his older lodgers to a dingy but less ancient house in Walnut Street. The worst thing for a while was keeping Joe Mazurewicz quiet; for the brooding loom-fixer would never stay sober, and was constantly whining and muttering about spectral and terrible things.

It seems that on that last hideous night Joe had stooped to look at the crimson rat-tracks which led from Gilman's couch to the near-by hole. On the carpet they were very indistinct, but a piece of open flooring intervened between the carpet's edge and the baseboard. There Mazurewicz had found something monstrous - or thought he had, for no one else could quite agree with him despite the undeniable queerness of the prints. The tracks on the flooring were certainly vastly unlike the average prints of a rat but even Choynski and Desrochers would not admit that they were like the prints of four tiny human hands.

The house was never rented again. As soon as Dombrowski left it the pall of its final desolation began to descend, for people shunned it both on account of its old reputation and because of the new foetid odour. Perhaps the ex-landlord's rat-poison had worked after all, for not long after his departure the place became a neighbourhood nuisance. Health officials traced the smell to the closed spaces above and beside the eastern garret room, and agreed that the number of dead rats must be enormous. They decided, however, that it was not worth their while to hew open and disinfect the long-sealed spaces; for the foetor would soon be over, and the locality was not one which encouraged fastidious standards. Indeed, there were always vague local tales of unexplained stenches upstairs in the Witch-House just after May-Eve and Hallowmass. The neighbours acquiesced in the inertia - but the foetor none the less formed an additional count against the place. Toward the last the house was condemned as a habitation by the building inspector.

Gilman's dreams and their attendant circumstances have never been explained. Elwood, whose thoughts on the entire episode are sometimes almost maddening, came back to college the next autumn and was graduated in the following June. He found the spectral gossip of the town much disminished, and it is indeed a fact that - notwithstanding certain reports of a ghostly tittering in the deserted house which lasted almost as long as that edifice itself - no fresh appearances either of Old Keziah or of Brown Jenkin have been muttered of since Gilman's death. It is rather fortunate that Elwood was not in Arkham in that later year when certain events abruptly renewed the local whispers about elder horrors. Of course he heard about the matter afterward and suffered untold torments of black and bewildered speculation; but even that was not as bad as actual nearness and several possible sights would have been.

In March, 1931, a gale wrecked the roof and great chimney of the vacant Witch-House, so that a chaos of crumbling bricks, blackened, moss-grown shingles, and rotting planks and timbers crashed down into the loft and broke through the floor beneath. The whole attic storey was choked with debris from above, but no one took the trouble to touch the mess before the inevitable razing of the decrepit structure. That ultimate step came in the following December, and it was when Gilman's old room was cleared out by reluctant, apprehensive workmen that the gossip began.

Among the rubbish which had crashed through the ancient slanting ceiling were several things which made the workmen pause and call in the police. Later the police in turn called in the coroner and several professors from the university. There were bones - badly crushed and splintered, but clearly recognizable as human - whose manifestly modern date conflicted puzzlingly with the remote period at which their only possible lurking place, the low, slant-floored loft overhead, had supposedly been sealed from all human access. The coroner's physician decided that some belonged to a small child, while certain others - found mixed with shreds of rotten brownish cloth - belonged to a rather undersized, bent female of advanced years. Careful sifting of debris also disclosed many tiny bones of rats caught in the collapse, as well as older rat-bones gnawed by small fangs in a fashion now and then highly productive of controversy and reflection.

Other objects found included the mangled fragments of many books and papers, together with a yellowish dust left from the total disintegration of still older books and papers. All, without exception, appeared to deal with black magic in its most advanced and horrible forms; and the evidently recent date of certain items is still a mystery as unsolved as that of the modern human bones. An even greater mystery is the absolute homogeneity of the crabbed, archaic writing found on a wide range of papers whose conditions and watermarks suggest age differences of at least one hundred and fifty to two hundred years. To some, though, the greatest mystery of all is the variety of utterly inexplicable objects - objects whose shapes, materials, types of workmanship, and purposes baffle all conjecture - found scattered amidst the wreckage in evidently diverse states of injury. One of these things - which excited several Miskatonie professors profoundly is a badly damaged monstrosity plainly resembling the strange image which Gilman gave to the college museum, save that it is large, wrought of some peculiar bluish stone instead of metal, and possessed of a singularly angled pedestal with undecipherable hieroglyphics.

Archaeologists and anthropologists are still trying to explain the bizarre designs chased on a crushed bowl of light metal whose inner side bore ominous brownish stains when found. Foreigners and credulous grandmothers are equally garrulous about the modern nickel crucifix with broken chain mixed in the rubbish and shiveringly identified by Joe Maturewicz as that which he had given poor Gilman many years before. Some believe this crucifix was dragged up to the sealed loft by rats, while others think it must have been on the floor in some corner of Gilman's old room at the time. Still others, including Joe himself, have theories too wild and fantastic for sober credence.

When the slanting wall of Gilman's room was torn out, the once-sealed triangular space between that partition and the house's north wall was found to contain much less structural debris, even in proportion to its size, than the room itself, though it had a ghastly layer of older materials which paralyzed the wreckers with horror. In brief, the floor was a veritable ossuary of the bones of small children - some fairly modern, but others extending back in infinite gradations to a period so remote that crumbling was almost complete. On this deep bony layer rested a knife of great size, obvious antiquity, and grotesque, ornate, and exotic design - above which the debris was piled.

In the midst of this debris, wedged between a fallen plank and a cluster of cemented bricks from the ruined chimney, was an object destined to cause more bafflement, veiled fright, and openly superstitious talk in Arkham than anything else discovered in the haunted and accursed building.

This object was the partly crushed skeleton of a huge diseased rat, whose abnormalities of form are still a topic of debate and source of singular reticence among the members of Miskatonic's department of comparative anatomy. Very little concerning this skeleton has leaked out, but the workmen who found it whisper in shocked tones about the long, brownish hairs with which it was associated.

The bones of the tiny paws, it is rumoured, imply prehensile characteristics more typical of a diminutive monkey than of a rat, while the small skull with its savage yellow fangs is of the utmost anomalousness, appearing from certain angles like a miniature, monstrously degraded parody of a human skull. The workmen crossed themselves in fright when they came upon this blasphemy, but later burned candles of gratitude in St. Stanislaus' Church because of the shrill, ghostly tittering they felt they would never hear again.

HAPTER I.
JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL.
(Kept in shorthand.)
3 May. Bistriz.- Left Munich at 8:35 P.M., on 1st May, arriving at Vienna early next morning; should have arrived at 6:46, but train was an hour late. Buda-Pesth seems a wonderful place, from the glimpse which I got of it from the train and the little I could walk through the streets. I feared to go very far from the station, as we had arrived late and would start as near the correct time as possible. The impression I had was that we were leaving the West and entering the East; the most western of splendid bridges over the Danube, which is here of noble width and depth, took us among the traditions of Turkish rule.
We left in pretty good time, and came after nightfall to Klausenburgh. Here I stopped for the night at the Hotel Royale. I had for dinner, or rather supper, a chicken done up some way with red pepper, which was very good but thirsty. (Mem., get recipe for Mina.) I asked the waiter, and he said it was called "paprika hendl," and that, as it was a national dish, I should be able to get it anywhere along the Carpathians. I found my smattering of German very useful here; indeed, I don't know how I should be able to get on without it.
Having had some time at my disposal when in London, I had visited the British Museum, and made search among the books and maps in the library regarding Transylvania; it had struck me that some importance in dealing with a nobleman of that country. I find that the district he named is in the extreme east of the country just on the borders of three states, Transylvania, Moldavia and Bukovina, in the midst of the Carpathian mountains; one of the wildest and least known portions of Europe. I was not able to light on any map or work giving the exact locality of the Castle Dracula, as there are no maps of this country as yet to compare with our own Ordnance Survey maps; but I found that Bistritz, the post town named by Count Dracula, is a fairly well-known place. I shall enter here some of my notes, as they may refresh my memory when I talk over my travels with Mina.
In the population of Transylvania there are four distinct nationalities: Saxons in the South, and mixed with them the Wallachias, who are the descendants of the Dacians; Magyars in the West, and Szekelys in the East and North. I am going among the latter, who claim to be descended from Attila and the Huns. This may be so, for when the Magyars conquered the country in the eleventh century they found the Huns settled in it. I read that every known superstition in the world is gathered into the horseshoe of the Carpathians, as if it were the center of some sort of imaginative whirlpool; if so my stay may be very interesting. (Mem., I must ask the Count all about them.)
I did not sleep well, though my bed was comfortable enough, for I had all sorts of queer dreams. There was a dog howling all night under my window, which may have had something to do with it; or it may have been the paprika, for I had to drink up all the water in my carafe, and was still thirsty. Towards morning I slept and was wakened by the continuous knocking at my door, so I guess I must have been sleeping soundly then. I had for breakfast more paprika, and a sort of porridge of maize flour which they said was "mamaliga," and egg-plant stuffed with forcemeat, a very excellent dish, which they call "impletata." (Mem., get recipe for this also.) I had to hurry breakfast, for the train started a little before eight, or rather it ought to have done so, for after rushing to the station at 7:30 I had to sit in the carriage for more than an hour before we began to move. It seems to me that the further east you go the more unpunctual are the trains. What ought they to be in China?
All day long we seemed to dawdle through a country which was full of beauty of every kind. Sometimes we saw little towns or castles on the top of steep hills such as we see in old missals; sometimes we ran by rivers and streams which seemed from the wide stony margin on each side of them to be subject to great floods. It takes a lot of water, and running strong, to sweep the outside edge of a river clear. At every station there were groups of people, sometimes crowds, and in all sorts of attire. Some of them were just like the peasants at home or those I saw coming through France and Germany, with short jackets and round hats and home-made trousers; but others were very picturesque. The women looked pretty, except when you got near them, but they were very clumsy about the waist. They had all full white sleeves of some kind or other, and most of them had big belts with a lot of strips of something fluttering from them like the dresses in a ballet, but of course there were petticoats under them. The strangest figures we saw were the Slovaks, who were more barbarian than the rest, with their big cow-boy hats, great baggy dirty-white trousers, white linen shirts, and enormous heavy leather belts, nearly a foot wide, all studded over with brass nails. They wore high boots, with their trousers tucked into them, and had long black hair and heavy black moustaches. They are very picturesque, but do not look prepossessing. On the stage they would be set down at once as some old Oriental band of brigands. They are, however, I am told, very harmless and rather wanting in natural self-assertion.
It was on the dark side of twilight when we got to Bistritz, which is a very interesting old place. Being practically on the frontier- for the Borgo Pass leads from it into Bukovina- it has had a very stormy existence, and it certainly shows marks of it. Fifty years ago a series of great fires took place, which made terrible havoc on five separate occasions. At the very beginning of the seventeenth century it underwent a siege of three weeks and lost 13,000 people, the casualties of war proper being assisted by famine and disease.
Count Dracula had directed me to go to the Golden Krone Hotel, which I found, to my great delight, to be thoroughly old-fashioned, for of course I wanted to see all I could of the ways of the country. I was evidently expected, for when I got near the door I faced a cheery-looking elderly woman in the usual peasant dress-white undergarment with long double apron, front, and back, of coloured stuff fitting almost too tight for modesty. When I came close she bowed, and said, "The Herr Englishman?" "Yes," I said, "Jonathan Harker." She smiled, and gave some message to an elderly man in white shirt-sleeves, who had followed her to the door. He went, but immediately returned with a letter:-
"My Friend.-
Welcome to the Carpathians. I am anxiously expecting you. Sleep well to-night. At three tomorrow the diligence will start for Bukovina; a place on it is kept for you. At the Borgo Pass my carriage will await you and will bring you to me. I trust that your journey from London has been a happy one, and that you will enjoy your stay in my beautiful land."
"Your friend,
"DRACULA."




4 May.- I found that my landlord had got a letter from the Count, directing him to secure the best place on the coach for me; but on making inquiries as to details he seemed somewhat reticent, and pretended that he could not understand my German. This could not be true, because up to then he had understood it perfectly; at least, he answered my questions exactly as if he did. He and his wife, the old lady who had received me, looked at each other in a frightened sort of way. He mumbled out that the money had been sent in a letter, and that was all he knew. When I asked him if he knew Count Dracula, and could tell me anything of his castle, both he and his wife crossed themselves, and, saying that they knew nothing at all, simply refused to speak further. It was so near the time of starting that I had no time to ask any one else, for it was all very mysterious and not by any means comforting.
Just before I was leaving, the old lady came up to my room and said in a very hysterical way:
"Must you go? Oh young Herr, must you go?" She was in such an excited state that she seemed to have lost her grip of what German she knew, and mixed it all up with some other language which I did not know at all. I was just able to follow her by asking many questions. When I told her that I must go at once, and that I was engaged on important business, she asked again:
"Do you know what day it is?" I answered that it was the fourth of May. She shook her head as she said again:
"Oh, yes! I know that! I know that but do you know what day it is?" On my saying that I did not understand, she went on:
"It is the eve of St. George's Day. Do you not know that to-night, when the clock strikes midnight, all the evil things in the world will have full sway? Do you know where you are going, and what you are going to?" She was in such evident distress that I tried to comfort her, but without effect. Finally she went down on her knees and implored me not to go; at least to wait a day or two before starting. It was all very ridiculous but I did not feel comfortable. How ever, there was business to be done, and I could allow nothing to interfere with it. I therefore tried to raise her up, and said, as gravely as I could, that I thanked her, but my duty was imperative, and that I must go. She then rose and dried her eyes, and taking a crucifix from her neck offered it to me. I did not know what to do, for, as an English Churchman, I have been taught to regard such things as in some measure idolatrous, and yet it seemed so ungracious to refuse an old lady meaning so well and in such a state of mind. She saw, I suppose, the doubt in my face, for she put the rosary round my neck, and said, "For your mother's sake," and went out of the room. I am writing up this part of the diary whilst I am waiting for the coach, which, is, of course, late; and the crucifix is still round my neck. Whether it is the old lady's fear, or the many ghostly traditions of this place, or the crucifix itself, I do not know, but I am not feeling nearly as easy in my mind as usual. If this book should ever reach Mina before I do, let it bring my good-bye. Here comes the coach!
5 May. The Castle.- The gray of the morning has passed, and the sun is high over the distant horizon, which seems jagged, whether with trees or hills I know not, for it is so far off that big things and little are mixed. I am not sleepy, and, as I am not to be called till I awake, naturally I write till sleep comes. There are many odd things to put down, and, lest who reads them may fancy that I dined too well before I left Bistritz, let me put down my dinner exactly. I dined on what they call "robber steak"- bits of bacon, onion, and beef, seasoned with red pepper, and strung on sticks and roasted over the fire, in the simple style of the London cat's meat! The wine was Golden Mediasch, which produces a queer sting on the tongue, which is, however, not disagreeable. I had only a couple of glasses of this, and nothing else.
When I got on the coach the driver had not taken his seat, and I saw him talking with the landlady. They were evidently talking of me, for every now and then they looked at me, and some of the people who were sitting on the bench outside the door- which they call by a name meaning "word-bearer"- came and listened, and then looked at me, most of them pityingly. I could hear a lot of words often repeated, queer words, for there were many nationalities in the crowd; so I quietly got my polyglot dictionary from my bag and looked them out. I must say they were not cheering to me, for amongst them were "Ordog"- Satan, "pokol"- hell, "stregoica"- witch, "vrolok" and "vlkoslak"- both of which mean the same thing, one being Slovak and the other Servian for something that is either were-wolf or vampire.
(Mem., I must ask the Count about these superstitions.)
When we started, the crowd round the inn door, which had by this time swelled to a considerable size, all made the sign of the cross and pointed two fingers towards me. With some difficulty I got a fellow-passenger to tell me what they meant; he would not answer at first, but on learning that I was English he explained that it was a charm or guard against the evil eye. This was not very pleasant for me, just starting for an unknown place to meet an unknown man; but every one seemed so kind-hearted, and so sorrowful, and so sympathetic that I could not but be touched. I shall never forget the last glimpse which I had of the innyard and its crowd of picturesque figures, all crossing themselves, as they stood round the wide archway, with its background of rich foliage of oleander and orange trees in green tubs clustered in the center of the yard. Then our driver, whose wide linen drawers covered the whole front of the box-seat- "gotza" they call them- cracked his big whip over his four small horses, which ran abreast, and we set off on our journey.
I soon lost sight and recollection of ghostly fears in the beauty of the scene as we drove along, although had I known the language, or rather languages, which my fellow-passengers were speaking, I might not have been able to throw them off so easily. Before us lay a green sloping land full of forests and woods, with here and there steep hills, crowned with clumps of trees or with farmhouses. the blank gable and to the road. There was everywhere a bewildering mass of fruit blossom- apple, plum, pear, cherry; and as we drove by I could see the green grass under the trees spangled with the fallen petals. In and out amongst these green hills of what they call here the "Mittel Land" ran the road, losing itself as it swept round the grassy curve, or was shut out by the straggling ends of pine woods, which here and there ran down the hillsides like tongues of flame. The road was rugged, but still we seemed to fly over it with a feverish haste. I could not understand then what the haste meant, but the driver was evidently bent on losing no time in reaching Borgo Prund. I was told that this road is in summertime excellent, but that it had not yet been put in order after the winter snows. In this respect it is different from the general run of roads in the Carpathians, for it is an old tradition that they are not to be kept in too good order. Of old the Hospadars would not repair them, lest the Turk should think that they were preparing to bring in foreign troops, and so hasten the war which was always really at loading point.
Beyond the green swelling hills of the Mittel Land rose mighty slopes of forest up to the lofty steeps of the Carpathians themselves. Right and left of us they towered, with the afternoon sun falling full upon them and bringing out all the glorious colors of this beautiful range, deep blue and purple in the shadows of the peaks, green and brown where grass and rock mingled, and an endless perspective of jagged rock and pointed crags, till these were themselves lost in the distance, where the snowy peaks rose grandly. Here and there seemed mighty rifts in the mountains, through which, as the sun began to sink, we saw now and again the white gleam of falling water. One of my companions touched my arm as we swept round the base of a hill and opened up the lofty, snow-covered peak of a mountain, which seemed, as we wound on our serpentine way, to be right before us:-
"Look! Isten szek!"- "God's seat!"- and he crossed himself reverently.
As we wound on our endless way, and the sun sank lower and lower behind us, the shadows of the evening began to creep round us. This was emphasized by the fact that the snowy mountain-top still held the sunset, and seemed to glow out with a delicate cool pink. Here and there we passed Cszeks and Slovaks, all in picturesque attire, but I noticed that goitre was painfully prevalent. By the roadside were many crosses, and as we swept by, my companions all crossed themselves. Here and there was a peasant man or woman kneeling before a shrine, who did not even turn round as we approached, but seemed in the self-surrender of devotion to have neither eyes nor ears for the outer world. There were many things new to me: for instance, hay-ricks in the trees, and here and there very beautiful masses of weeping birch, their white stems shining like silver through the delicate green of the leaves. Now and again we passed a leiter-wagon- the ordinary peasant's cart- with its long, snake-like vertebra, calculated to suit the inequalities of the road. On this were sure to be seated quite a group of home-coming peasants, the Cszeks with their white, and the Slovaks with their coloured, sheepskins, the latter carrying lance-fashion their long staves, with axe at end. As the evening fell it began to get very cold, and the growing twilight seemed to merge into one dark mistiness the gloom of the trees, oak, beech, and pine, though in the valleys which ran deep between the spurs of the hills, as we ascended through the Pass, the dark firs stood out here and there against the background of late-lying snow. Sometimes, as the road was cut through the pine woods that seemed in the darkness to be closing down upon us, great masses of grayness, which here and there bestrewed the trees, produced a peculiarly weird and solemn effect, which carried on the thoughts and grim fancies engendered earlier in the evening, when the failing sunset threw into strange relief the ghost-like clouds which amongst the Carpathians seem to wind ceaselessly through the valleys. Sometimes the hills were so steep that, despite our driver's haste, the horses could only go slowly. I wished to get down and walk up them, as we do at home, but the driver would not hear it. "No, no," he said; "you must not walk here; the dogs are too fierce;" and then he added, with what he evidently meant for grim pleasantry- for he looked round to catch the approving smile of the rest- "and you may have enough of such matters before you go to sleep." The only stop he would make was a moment's pause to light his lamps.
When it grew dark there seemed to be some excitement amongst the passengers, and they kept speaking to him, one after the other, as though urging him to further speed. He lashed the horses unmercifully with his long whip, and with wild cries of encouragement urged them on to further exertions. Then through the darkness I could see a sort of patch of gray light ahead of us, as though there were a cleft in the hills. The excitement of the passengers grew greater; the crazy coach rocked on its great leather springs, and swayed like a boat tossed on a stormy sea. I had to hold on. The road grew more level, and we appeared to fly along. Then the mountains seemed to come nearer to us on each side and to frown down upon us; we were entering on the Borgo Pass. One by one several of the passengers offered me gifts, which they pressed upon me with an earnestness which would take no denial; these were certainly of an odd and varied kind, but each was given in simple good faith, with a kindly word, and a blessing, and that strange mixture of fear-meaning movements which I had seen outside the hotel at Bistritz- the sign of the cross and the guard against the evil eye. Then, as we flew along, the driver leaned forward, and on each side the passengers, craning over the edge of the coach, peered eagerly into the darkness. It was evident that something very exciting was either happening or expected, but though I asked each passenger, no one would give me the slightest explanation. This state of excitement kept on for some little time; and at last we saw before us the Pass opening out on the eastern side. There were dark, rolling clouds overhead, and in the air the heavy, oppressive sense of thunder. It seemed as though the mountain range had separated two atmospheres, and that now we had got into the thunderous one. I was now myself looking out for the conveyance which was to take me to the Count. Each moment I expected to see the glare of lamps through the blackness; but all was dark. The only light was the flickering rays of our own lamps, in which the steam from our hard-driven horses rose in a white cloud. We could now see the sandy road lying white before us, but there was on it no sign of a vehicle. The passengers drew back with a sigh of gladness, which seemed to mock my own disappointment. I was already thinking what I had best do, when the driver, looking at his watch, said to the others something which I could hardly hear, it was spoken so quiet. ONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL.
5 May.- I must have been asleep, for certainly if I had been fully awake I must have noticed the approach of such a remarkable place. In the gloom the courtyard looked of considerable size, and as several dark ways led from it under great round arches it perhaps seemed bigger than it really is. I have not yet been able to see it by daylight.
When the chalet stopped the driver jumped down, and held out his hand to assist me to alight. Again I could not but notice his prodigious strength. His hand actually seemed like a steel vice that could have crushed mine if he had chosen. Then he took out my traps, and placed them on the ground beside me as I stood close to a great door, old and studded with large iron nails, and set in a projecting doorway of massive stone. I could see even in the dim light that the stone was massively carved, but that the carving had been much worn by time and weather. As I stood, the driver jumped again into his seat and shook the reins; the horses started forward, and trap and all disappeared down one of the dark openings.
I stood in silence where I was, for I did not know what to do. Of bell or knocker there was no sign; through these frowning walls and dark window openings it was not likely that my voice could penetrate. The time I waited seemed endless, and I felt doubts and fears crowding upon me. What sort of place had I come to, and among what kind of people? What sort of grim adventure was it on which I had embarked? Was this a customary incident in the life of a solicitor's clerk sent out to explain the purchase of a London estate to a foreigner? Solicitor's clerk! Mina would not like that. Solicitor,- for just before leaving London I got word that my examination was successful; and I am now a full-blown solicitor! I began to rub my eyes and pinch myself to see if I were awake. It all seemed like a horrible nightmare to me, and I expected that I should suddenly awake, and find myself at home, with the dawn struggling in through the windows, as I had now and again felt in the morning after a day of overwork. But my flesh answered the pinching test, and my eyes were not to be deceived. I was indeed awake and among the Carpathians.
All I could do now was to be patient, and to wait the coming of the morning.
Just as I had come to this conclusion I heard a heavy step approaching behind the great door, and saw through the chinks the gleam of a coming light. Then there was the sound of rattling chains and the clanking of massive bolts drawn back. A key was turned with the loud grating noise of long disuse, and the great door swung back.
Within, stood a tall old man, clean shaven save for a long white moustache, and clad in black from head to foot, without a single speck of colour about him anywhere. He held in his hand an antique silver lamp, in which the name burned without chimney or globe of any kind, throwing long quivering shadows as it flickered in the draught of the open door. The old man motioned me in with his right hand with a courtly gesture, saying in excellent English, but with a strange intonation:-
"Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own will!" He made no motion of stepping to meet me, but stood like a statue, as though his gesture of welcome had fixed him into stone. The instant, however, that I had stepped over the threshold, he moved impulsively forward, and holding out his hand grasped mine with a strength which made me wince, an effect which was not lessened by the fact that it seemed as cold as ice- more like the hand of a dead than a living man. Again he said:-
"Welcome to my house. Come freely. Go safely; and leave something of the happiness you bring!" The strength of the handshake was so much akin to that which I had noticed in the driver, whose face I had not seen, that for a moment I doubted if it were not the same person to whom I was speaking; so to make sure, I said interrogatively:-
"Count Dracula?" He bowed in a courtly way as he replied:-
"I am Dracula; and I bid you welcome, Mr. Harker, to my house. Come in; the night air is chill, and you must need to eat and rest." As he was speaking he put the lamp on a bracket on the wall, and stepping out, took my luggage; he had carried it in before I could forestall him. I protested but he insisted:-
"Nay, sir, you are my guest. It is late, and my people are not available. Let me see to your comfort myself." He insisted on carrying my traps along the passage, and then up a great winding stair, and along another great passage, on whose stone floor our steps rang heavily. At the end of this he threw open a heavy door, and I rejoiced to see within a well-lit room in which a table was spread for supper, and on whose mighty hearth a great fire of logs, freshly replenished, flamed and flared.
The Count halted, putting down my bags, closed the door, and crossing the room, opened another door, which led into a small octagonal room lit by a single lamp, and seemingly without a window of any sort. Passing through this, he opened another door, and motioned me to enter. It was a welcome sight; for here was a great bedroom well lighted and warmed with another log fire,- also added to but lately for the top logs were fresh- which sent a hollow roar up the wide chimney. The Count himself left my luggage inside and withdrew, saying, before he closed the door:-
"You will need, after your journey, to refresh yourself by making your toilet. I trust you will find all you wish. When you are ready come into the other room, where you will find your supper prepared."
The light and warmth and the Count's courteous welcome seemed to have dissipated all my doubts and fears. Having then reached my normal state, I discovered that I was half famished with hunger; so making a hasty toilet, I went into the other room.
I found supper already laid out. My host, who stood on one side of the great fireplace, leaning against the stonework, made a graceful wave of his hand to the table, and said:-
"I pray you, be seated and sup how you please. You will, I trust, excuse me that I do not join you; but I have dined already, and I do not sup."
I handed to him the sealed letter which Mr. Hawkins had entrusted to me. He opened it and read it gravely; then, with a charming smile, he handed it to me to read. One passage of it, at least, gave me a thrill of pleasure:
"I much regret that an attack of gout, from which malady I am a constant sufferer, forbids absolutely any travelling on my part for some time to come; but I am happy to say I can send a sufficient substitute, one in whom I have every possible confidence. He is a young man, full of energy and talent in his own way, and of a very faithful disposition. He is discreet and silent, and has grown into manhood in my service. He shall be ready to attend on you when you will during his stay, and shall take your instructions in all matters."
The Count himself came forward and took off the cover of a dish, and I fell to at once on an excellent roast chicken. This, with some cheese and a salad and a bottle of old Tokay, of which I had two glasses, was my supper. During the time I was eating it the Count asked me many questions as to my journey, and I told him by degrees all I had experienced.
By this time I had finished my supper, and by my host's desire had drawn up a chair by the fire and begun to smoke a cigar which he offered me, at the same time excusing himself that he did not smoke. I had now an opportunity of observing him, and found him of a very marked physiognomy.
His face was a strong- a very strong- aquiline, with high bridge of the thin nose and peculiarly arched nostrils; with lofty domed forehead, and hair growing scantily round the temples but profusely elsewhere. His eyebrows were very massive, almost meeting over the nose, and with bushy hair that seemed to curl in its own profusion. The mouth, so far as I could see it under the heavy moustache, was fixed and rather cruel-looking, with peculiarly sharp white teeth; these protruded over the lips, whose remarkable ruddiness showed astonishing vitality in a man of his years. For the rest, his ears were pale and at the tops extremely pointed; the chin was broad and strong, and the cheeks firm though thin. The general effect was one of extraordinary pallor.
Hitherto I had noticed the backs of his hands as they lay on his knees in the firelight, and they had seemed rather white and fine; but seeing them now close to me, I could not but notice that they were rather coarse- broad, with squat fingers. Strange to say, there were hairs in the center of the palm. The nails were long and fine, and cut to a sharp point. As the Count learned over me and his hands touched me, I could not repress a shudder. It may have been that his breath was rank, but a horrible feeling of nausea came over me, which, do what I would, I could not conceal. The Count, evidently noticing it, drew back; and with a grim sort of smile. which showed more than he had yet done his protuberant teeth, sat himself down again on his own side of the fireplace. We were both silent for a while; and as I looked towards the window I saw the first dim streak of the coming dawn. There seemed a strange stillness over everything; but as I listened I heard as if from down below in the valley the howling of many wolves. The Count's eyes gleamed, and he said:-
"Listen to them- the children of the night. What music they make!" Seeing, I suppose, some expression in my face strange to him, he added:-
"Ah, sir, you dwellers in the city cannot enter into the feelings of the hunter." Then he rose and said:-
"But you must be tired. Your bedroom is all ready, and to-morrow you shall sleep as late as you will. I have to be away till the afternoon; so sleep well and dream well!" With a courteous bow, he opened for me himself the door to the octagonal room, and I entered my bedroom...
I am all in a sea of wonders. I doubt; I fear, I think strange things which I dare not confess to my own soul. God keep me, if only for the sake of those dear to me!
7 May.- it is again early morning, but I have rested and enjoyed the last twenty-four hours. I slept till late in the day, and awoke of my own accord. When I had dressed myself I went into the room where we had supped, and found a cold breakfast laid out, with coffee kept hot by the pot being placed on the hearth. There was a card on the table, on which was written:-
"I have to be absent for a while. Do not wait for me.- D." I set to and enjoyed a hearty meal. When I had done, I looked for a bell, so that I might let the servants know I had finished; but I could not find one. There are certainly odd deficiencies in the house, considering the extraordinary evidences of wealth which are round me. The table service is of gold, and so beautifully wrought that it must be of immense value. The curtains and upholstery of the chairs and sofas and the hangings of my bed are of the costliest and most beautiful fabrics, and must have been of fabulous value when they were made, for they are centuries old, though in excellent order. I saw something like them in Hampton Court, but there they were worn and frayed and moth-eaten. But still in none of the rooms in there a mirror. There is not even a toilet glass on my table and I had to get the little shaving glass from my bag before I could either shave or brush my hair. I have not yet seen a servant anywhere, or heard a sound near the castle except the howling of wolves. Some time after I had finished my meal- I do not know whether to call it breakfast or dinner, for it was between five and six o'clock when I had it- I looked about for something to read, for I did not like to go about the castle until I had asked the Count's permission. There was absolutely nothing in the room, book, newspaper, or even writing materials; so I opened another door in the room and found a sort of library. The door opposite mine I tried, but found it locked.
In the library I found, to my great delight, a vast number of English books, whole shelves full of them, and bound volumes of magazines and newspapers. A table in the centre was littered with English magazines and newspapers, though none of them were of very recent date. The books were of the most varied kind- history, geography, politics, political economy, botany, geology, law- all relating to England and English life and customs and manners. There were even such books of reference as the London Directory, the "Red" and "Blue" books, Whitaker's Almanac, the Army and Navy Lists, and- it somehow gladdened my heart to see it- the Law List.
Whilst I was looking at the books, the door opened, and the Count entered. He saluted me in a hearty way, and hoped that I had had a good night's rest. Then he went on:-
"I am glad you found your way in here, for I am sure there is much that will interest you. These companions"- and he laid his hand on some of the books- "have been good friends to me, and for some years past, ever since I had the idea of going to London, have given me many, many hours of pleasure. Through them I have come to know your great England; and to know her is to love her. I long to go through the crowded streets of your mighty London, to be in the midst of the whirl and rush of humanity, to share its life, its change, its death, and all that makes it what it is. But alas! as yet I only know your tongue through books. To you, my friend, I look that I
know it to speak."
"But, Count," I said, "you know and speak English thoroughly!" He bowed gravely.
"I thank you, my friend, for your all too flattering estimate, but yet I fear that I am but a little way on the road I would travel.
True, I know the grammar and the words, but yet I know not how to speak them."
"Indeed," I said, "you speak excellently."
"Not so," he answered. "Well I know that, did I move and speak in your London, none there are who would not know me for a stranger. That is not enough for me. Here I am noble; I am boyar; the common people know me, and I am master. But a stranger in a strange land, he is no one; men know him not- and to know not is to care not for. I am content if I am like the rest, so that no man stops if he see me, or pause in his speaking if he hear my words, 'Ha, ha! a stranger!' I have been so long master that I would be master still- or at least that none other should be master of me. You come to me not alone as agent of my friend Peter Hawkins, of Exeter, to tell me all about my new estate in London. You shall, I trust, rest here with me a while, so that by our talking I may learn the English intonation; and I would that you tell me when I make error, even of the smallest, in my speaking. I am sorry that I had to be away so long to-day; but you will, I know, forgive one who has so many important affairs in hand."
Of course I said all I could about being willing, and asked if I might come into that room when I chose. He answered: "Yes, certainly," and added:-
"You may go anywhere you wish in the castle, except where the doors are locked, where of course you will not wish to go. There is reason that all things are as they are, and did you see with my eyes and know with my knowledge, you would perhaps better understand." I said I was sure of this, and then he went on:-
"We are in Transylvania; and Transylvania is not England. Our ways are not your ways, and there shall be to you many strange things. Nay, from what you have told me of your experiences already, you know something of what strange things there may be."
This led to much conversation; and as it was evident that he wanted to talk, if only for talking sake, I asked him many questions regarding things that had already happened to me or come within my notice. Sometimes he sheered off the subject, or turned the conversation by pretending not to understand; but generally he answered all I asked most frankly. Then as time went on, and I had got somewhat bolder, I asked him of some of the strange things of the preceding night, as, for instance, why the coachman went to the places where he had seen the blue flames. He then explained to me that it was commonly believed that on a certain night of the year- last night, in fact, when all evil spirits are supposed to have unchecked sway- a blue flame is seen over any place where treasure has been concealed. "That treasure has been hidden," he went on, "in the region through which you came last night, there can be but little doubt; for it was the ground fought over for centuries by the Wallachian, the Saxon, and the Turk. Why, there is hardly a foot of soil in all this region that has not been enriched by the blood of men, patriots or invaders. In old days there were stirring times, when the Austrian and the Hungarian came up in hordes, and the patriots went out to meet them- men and women, the aged and the children too- and waited their coming on the rocks above the passes, that they might sweep destruction on them with their artificial avalanches. When the invader was triumphant he found but little, for whatever there was had been sheltered in the friendly soil."
"But how," said I, "can it have remained so long undiscovered, when there is a sure index to it if men will but take the trouble to look?" The Count smiled, and as his lips ran back over his gums, the long, sharp, canine teeth showed out strangely; he answered:-
"Because your peasant is at heart a coward and a fool! Those names only appear on one night; and on that night no man of this land will, if he can help it, stir without his doors. And, dear sir, even if he did he would not know what to do. Why, even the peasant that you tell me of who marked the place of the flame would not know where to look in daylight even for his own work. Even you would not, I dare be sworn, be able to find these places again?"
"There you are right," I said. "I know no more than the dead where even to look for them." Then we drifted into other matters.
"Come," he said at last, "tell me of London and of the house which you have procured for me." With an apology for my remissness, I went into my own room to get the papers from my bag. Whilst I was placing them in order I heard a rattling of china and silver in the next room, and as I passed through, noticed that the table had been cleared and the lamp lit, for it was by this time deep into the dark. The lamps were also lit in the study or library, and I found the Count lying on the sofa, reading, of all things in the world, an English Bradshaw's Guide. When I came in he cleared the books and papers from the table; and with him I went into plans and deeds and figures of all sorts. He was interested in everything, and asked me a myriad questions about the place and its surroundings. He clearly had studied beforehand all he could get on the subject of the neighborhood, for he
evidently at the end knew very much more than I did. When I remarked this, he answered:-
"Well, but, my friend, is it not needful that I should? When I go there I shall be all alone, and my friend Harker Jonathan- nay, pardon me, I fall into my country's habit of putting your patronymic first- my friend Jonathan Harker will not be by my side to correct and aid me. He will be in Exeter, miles away, probably working at papers of the law with my other friend, Peter Hawkins. So!"
We went thoroughly into the business of the purchase of the estate at Purfleet. When I had told him the facts and got his signature to the necessary papers, and had written a letter with them ready to post to Mr. Hawkins, he began to ask me how I had come across so suitable a place. I read to him the notes which I had made at the time, and which I inscribe here:-
"At Purfleet, on a by-road, I came across just such a place as seemed to be required, and where was displayed a dilapidated notice that the place was for sale. It is surrounded by a high wall, of ancient structure, built of heavy stones, and has not been repaired for a large number of years. The closed gates are of heavy old oak and iron, all eaten with rust.
"The estate is called Carfax, no doubt a corruption of the old Quatre Face, as the house is four-sided, agreeing with the cardinal points of the compass. It contains in all some twenty acres, quite surrounded by the solid stone wall above mentioned. There are many trees on it, which make it in places gloomy, and there is a deep, dark-looking pond or small lake, evidently fed by some springs, as the water is clear and flows away in a fair-sized stream. The house is very large and of all periods back, I should say, to mediaeval times, for one part is of stone immensely thick, with only a few windows high up and heavily barred with iron. It looks like part of a keep, and is close to an old chapel or church. I could not enter it, as I had not the key of the door leading to it from the house, but I have taken with my kodak views of it from various points. The house has been added to, but in a very straggling way, and I can only guess at the amount of ground it covers, which must be very great. There are but few houses close at hand, one being a very large house only recently added to and formed into a private lunatic asylum. It is not, however, visible from the grounds."
When I had finished, he said:-
"I am glad that it is old and big. I myself am of an old family, and to live in a new house would kill me. A house cannot be made habitable in a day; and, after all, how few days go to make up a century. I rejoice also that there is a chapel of old times. We Transylvanian nobles love not to think that our bones may lie amongst the common dead. I seek not gaiety nor mirth, not the bright voluptuousness of much sunshine and sparkling waters which please the young and gay. I am no longer young; and my heart, through weary years of mourning over the dead, is not attuned to mirth. Moreover, the walls of my castle are broken; the shadows are many, and the wind breathes cold through the broken battlements and casements. I love the shade and the shadow, and would be alone with my thoughts when I may." Somehow his words and his look did not seem to accord, or else it was that his cast of face made his smile look malignant and saturnine.
Presently, with an excuse, he left me, asking me to put all my papers together. He was some little time away, and I began to look at some of the books around me. One was an atlas, which I found opened naturally at England, as if that map had been much used. On looking at it I found in certain places little rings marked, and on examining these I noticed that one was near London on the east side, manifestly where his new estate was situated; the other two were Exeter, and Whitby on the Yorkshire coast.
It was the better part of an hour when the Count returned. "Aha!" he said; "still at your books? Good! But you must not work always. Come; I am informed that your supper is ready." He took my arm, and we went into the next room, where I found an excellent supper ready on the table. The Count again excused himself, as he had dined out on his being away from home. But he sat as on the previous night, and chatted whilst I ate. After supper I smoked, as on the last evening, and the Count stayed with me, chatting and asking questions on every conceivable subject, hour after hour. I felt that it was getting very late indeed, but I did not say anything, for I felt under obligation to meet my host's wishes in every way. I was not sleepy as the long sleep yesterday had fortified me; but I could not help experiencing that chill which comes over one at the coming of the dawn, which is like, in its way, the turn of the tide. They say that people who are near death die generally at the change to the dawn or at the turn of the tide; any one who has when tired, and tied as it were to his post, experienced this change in the atmosphere can well believe it. All at once we heard the crow of a cock coming up with preternatural shrillness through the clear morning air, Count Dracula, jumping to his feet, said:-
"Why, there is the morning again! How remiss I am to let you stay up so long. You must make your conversation regarding my dear new country of England, less interesting, so that I may not forget how time flies by us," and, with courtly bow, he quickly left me.
I went into my own room and drew the curtains, but there was little to notice; my window opened into the courtyard, all I could see was the warm gray of quickening sky. So I pulled the curtains again, and have written of this day.
8 May.- I began to fear as I wrote in this book that I was getting too diffuse; but now I am glad that I went into detail from the first, for there is something so strange about this place and all in it that I cannot but feel uneasy. I wish I were safe out of it, or that I had never come. It may be that this strange night-existence is telling on me; but would that that were all! If there were any one to talk to I could bear it, but there is no one. I have only the Count to speak with, and he!- I fear I am myself the only living soul within the place. Let me be prosaic so far as facts can be; it will help me to bear up, and imagination must not run riot with me. If it does I am lost. Let me say at once how I stand- or seem to.
I only slept a few hours when I went to bed, and feeling that I could not sleep any more, got up. I had hung my shaving glass by the window, and was just beginning to shave. Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder, and heard the Count's voice saying to me, "Good-morning." I started, for it amazed me that I had not seen him, since the reflection of the glass covered the whole room behind me. In starting I had cut myself slightly, but did not notice it at the moment. Having answered the Count's salutation, I turned to the glass again to see how I had been mistaken. This time there could be no error, for the man was close to me, and I could see him over my shoulder. But there was no reflection of him in the mirror! The whole room behind me was displayed; but there was no sign of a man in it, except myself. This was startling, and, coming on the top of so many strange things, was beginning to increase that vague feeling of uneasiness which I always have when the Count is near; but at the instant I saw that the cut had bled a little, and the blood was trickling over my chin. I laid down the razor, turning as I did so half round to look for some sticking plaster. When the Count saw my face, his eyes blazed with a sort of demoniac fury, and he suddenly made a grab at my throat. I drew away, and his hand touched the string of beads which held the crucifix. It made an instant change in him, for the fury passed so quickly that I could hardly believe that it was ever there.
"Take care," he said, "take care how you cut yourself. It is more dangerous than you think in this country." Then seizing the shaving glass, he went on: "And this is the wretched thing that has done the mischief. It is a foul bauble of man's vanity. Away with it!" and opening the heavy window with one wrench of his terrible hand, he flung out the glass, which was shattered into a thousand pieces on the stones of the courtyard far below. Then he withdrew without a word. It is very annoying, for I do not see how I am to shave, unless in my watch-case or the bottom of the shaving-pot, which is fortunately of metal.
When I went into the dining-room, breakfast was prepared; but I could not find the Count anywhere. So I breakfasted alone. It is strange that as yet I have not seen the Count eat or drink. He must be a very peculiar man! After breakfast I did a little exploring in the castle. I went out on the stairs and found a room looking towards the South. The view was magnificent, and from where I stood there was every opportunity of seeing it. The castle is on the very edge of a terrible precipice. A stone falling from the window would fall a thousand feet without touching anything! As far as the eye can reach is a sea of green tree tops, with occasionally a deep rift where there is a chasm. Here and there are silver threads where the rivers wind in deep gorges through the forests.
But I am not in heart to describe beauty, for when I had seen the view I explored further, doors, doors, doors everywhere, and all locked and bolted. In no place save from the windows in the castle walls is there an available exit.

The castle is a veritable prison, and I am a prisoner!
JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL.
When I found that I was a prisoner a sort of wild feeling came over me. I rushed up and down the stairs, trying every door and peering out of every window I could find; but after a little the conviction of my helplessness overpowered all other feelings. When I look back after a few hours I think I must have been mad for the time, for I behaved much as a rat does in a trap. When, however, the conviction had come to me that I was helpless I sat down quietly- as quietly as I have ever done anything in my life- and began to think over what was best to be done. I am thinking still, and as yet have come to no definite conclusion. Of one thing only am I certain; that it is no use making my ideas known to the Count. He knows well that I am imprisoned; and as he has done it himself, and has doubtless his own motives for it, he would only deceive me if I trusted him fully with the facts. So far as I can see, my only plan will be to keep my knowledge and my fears to myself, and my eyes open. I am, I know, either being deceived, like a baby, by my own fears, or else I am in desperate straits; and if the latter be so, I need, and shall need, all my brains to get through.
I had hardly come to this conclusion when I heard the great door below shut, and knew that the Count had returned. He did not come at once into the library, so I went cautiously to my own room and found him making the bed. This was odd, but only confirmed what I had all along though that there were no servants in the house. When later I saw him through the chink of the hinges of the door laying the table in the dining-room, I was assured of it; for if he does himself all these menial offices, surely it is proof that there is no one else to do them. This gave me a fright, for if there is no one else in the castle, it must have been the Count himself who was the driver of the coach that brought me here. This is a terrible thought; for if so, what does it mean that he could control the wolves, as he did, by only holding up his hand in silence. How was it that all the people at Bistritz and on the coach had some terrible fear for me? What meant the giving of the crucifix, of the garlic, of the wild rose, of the mountain ash? Bless that good, good woman who hung the crucifix round my neck! for it is a comfort and a strength to me whenever I touch it. It is odd that a thing which I have been taught to regard with disfavour and as idolatrous should in a time of loneliness and trouble be of help. Is it that there is something in the essence of the thing itself, or that it is a medium, a tangible help, in conveying memories of sympathy and comfort? Some time, if it may be, I must examine this matter and try to make up my mind about it. In the meantime I must find out all I can about Count Dracula, as it may help me to understand. To-night he may talk of himself, if I turn the conversation that way. I must be very careful, however, not to awake his suspicion.
Midnight.- I have had a long talk with the Count. I asked him a few questions on Transylvania history, and he warmed up to the subject wonderfully. In his speaking of things and people, and especially of battles, he spoke as if he had been present at them all. This he afterwards explained by saying that to a boyar the pride of his house and name is his own pride, that their glory is his glory, that their fate is his fate. Whenever he spoke of his house he always said "we," and spoke almost in the plural, like a king speaking. I wish I could put down all he said exactly as he said it, for to me it was most fascinating. It seemed to have in it a whole history of the country. He grew excited as he spoke, and walked about the room pulling his great white moustache and grasping anything on which he laid his hands as though he would crush it by main strength. One thing he said which I shall put down as nearly as I can; for it tells in its way the story of his race:-
"We Szekelys have a right to be proud, for in our veins flows the blood of many brave races who fought as the lion fights, for lordship. Here, in the whirlpool of European races, the Ugric tribe bore down from Iceland the fighting spirit which Thor and Wodin gave them, which their Berserkers displayed to such fell intent on the seaboards of Europe, ay, and of Asia and Africa too, till the peoples thought that the were wolves themselves had come. Here too when they came, they found the Huns, whose warlike fury had swept the earth like a living flame, till the dying peoples held that in their veins ran the blood of those old witches, who, expelled from Scythia had mated with the devils in the desert. Fools, fools! What devil or what witch was ever so great as Attila, whose blood is in these veins?" He held up his arms. "Is it a wonder that we were a conquering race; that we were proud; that when the Magyar, the Lombard, the Avar, the Bulgar, or the Turk poured his thousands on our frontiers, we drove them back? Is it strange that when Arpad and his legions swept through the Hungarian fatherland he found us here when he reached the frontier; that the Honfoglalas was completed there? And when the Hungarian flood swept eastward, the Szekelys were claimed as kindred by the victorious Magyars, and to us for centuries was trusted the guarding of the frontier of Turkey-land; ay and more than that, endless duty of the frontier guard, for, as the Turks say, 'water sleeps, and enemy is sleepless.' Who more gladly than we throughout the Four Nations received the bloody sword, or at its warlike call flocked quicker to the standard of the King? When was redeemed that great shame of my nation, the shame of Cassova, when the flags of the Wallach and the Magyar went down beneath the Crescent, who was it but one of my own race who as Voivode crossed the Danube and beat the Turk on his own ground? This was a Dracula indeed! Woe was it that his own unworthy brother, when he had fallen, sold his people to the Turk and brought the shame of slavery on them! Was it not this Dracula, indeed, who inspired that other of his race who in a later age again and again brought his forces over the great river into Turkey-land; who, when he was beaten back, came again, and again, and again, though he had to come alone from the bloody field where his troops were being slaughtered, since he knew that he alone could ultimately triumph? They said that he thought only of himself. Bah! what good are peasants without a leader? Where ends the war without a brain and heart to conduct it? Again, when, after the battle of Mohacs, we threw off the Hungarian yoke, we of the Dracula blood were amongst their leaders, for our spirit would not brook that we were not free. Ah, young sir, the Szekelys- and the Dracula as their heart's blood, their brains, and their swords- can boast a record that mushroom growths like the Hapsburgs and the Romanoffs can never reach. The warlike days are over. Blood is too precious a thing in these days of dishonourable peace; and the glories of the great races are as a tale that is told."
It was by this time close on morning, and we went to bed. (Mem. this diary seems horribly like the beginning of the "Arabian Nights," for everything has to break off at cockcrow- or like the ghost of Hamlet's father.)
12 May.- Let me begin with facts- bare, meagre facts, verified by books and figures, and of which there can be no doubt. I must not confuse them with experiences which will have to rest on my own observation, or my memory of them. Last evening when the Count came from his room he began by asking me questions on legal matters and on the doing of certain kinds of business. I had spent the day wearily over books, and, simply to keep my mind occupied, went over some of the matters I had been examined in at Lincoln's Inn. There was a certain method in the Count's inquiries, so I shall try to put them down in sequence; the knowledge may somehow or some time be useful to me.
First, he asked if a man in England might have two solicitors or more. I told him he might have a dozen if he wished, but that it would not be wise to have more than one solicitor engaged in one transaction, as only one could act at a time, and that to change would be certain to militate against his interest. He seemed thoroughly to understand, and went on to ask if there would be any practical difficulty in having one man to attend, say, to banking, and another to look after shipping, in case local help were needed in a place far from the home of the banking solicitor. I asked him to explain more fully, so that I might not by any chance mislead him, so he said:-
"I shall illustrate. Your friend and mine, Mr. Peter Hawkins, from under the shadow of your beautiful cathedral at Exeter, which is far from London, buys for me through your good self my place at London. Good! Now here let me say frankly, lest you should think it strange that I have sought the services of one so far off from London instead of some one resident there, that my motive was that no local interest might be served save my wish only; and as one of London resident might, perhaps, have some purpose of himself or friend to serve, I went thus afield to seek my agent, whose labours should be only to my interest. Now, suppose I, who have much of affairs, wish to ship goods, say, to Newcastle, or Durham, or Harwich, or Dover, might it not be that it could with more ease be done by consigning to one in these ports?" I answered that certainly it would be most easy, but that we solicitors had a system of agency one for the other, so that local work could be done locally on instruction from any solicitor, so that the client, simply placing himself in the hands of one man, could have his wishes carried out by him without further trouble.
"But," said he, "I could be at liberty to direct myself. Is it not so?"
"Of course," I replied; "and such is often done by men of business, who do not like the whole of their affairs to be known by any one person."
"Good!" he said, and then went on to ask about the means of making consignments and the forms to be gone through, and of all sorts of difficulties which might arise, but by fore thought could be guarded against. I explained all these things to him to the best of my ability, and he certainly left me under the impression that he would have made a wonderful solicitor, for there was nothing that he did not think of or foresee. For a man who was never in the country, and who did not evidently do much in the way of business, his knowledge and acumen were wonderful. When he had satisfied himself on these points of which he had spoken, and I had verified all as well as I could by the books available, he suddenly stood up and said:-
"Have you written since your first letter to our friend Mr. Peter Hawkins, or to any other?" It was with some bitterness in my heart that I answered that I had not, that as yet I had not seen any opportunity of sending letters to anybody.
"Then write now, my young friend," he said, laying a heavy hand on my shoulder, "write to our friend and to any other, and say, if it will please you, that you shall stay with me until a month from now."
"Do you wish me to stay so long?" I asked, for my heart grew cold at the thought.
"I desire it much; nay, I will take no refusal. When your master, employer, what you will, engaged that some one should come on his behalf, it was understood that my needs only were to be consulted. I have not stinted. Is it not so?"
What could I do but bow acceptance? it was Mr. Hawkins's interest, not mine, and I had to think of him, not myself, and besides, which Count Dracula was speaking, there was that in his eyes and in his bearing which made me remember that I was a prisoner, and that if I wished it I could have no choice. The Count saw his victory in my bow, and his mastery in the trouble of my face, for he began at once to use them, but in his own smooth, resistless way:-
"I pray you, my good young friend, that you will not discourse of things other than business in your letters. It will doubtless please your friends to know that you are well, and that you look forward to getting home to them. Is it not so?" As he spoke he handed me three sheets of note-paper and three envelopes. They were all of the thinnest foreign post, and looking at them, then at him, and noticing his quiet smile, with the sharp, canine teeth lying over the red underlip, I understood as well as if he had spoken that I should be careful what I wrote, for he would be able to read it. So I determined to write only formal notes now, but to write fully to Mr. Hawkins in secret, and also to Mina, for to her I could write in shorthand, which would puzzle the Count, if he did see it. When I had written my two letters I sat quiet, reading a book whilst the Count wrote several notes, referring as he wrote them to some books on his table. Then he took up my two and placed them with his own, and put by his writing materials, after which, the instant the door had closed behind him, I leaned over and looked at the letters, which were face down on the table. I felt no compunction in doing so, for under the circumstances I felt that I should protect myself in every way I could.
One of the letters was directed to Samuel F. Billington, No. 7, The Crescent, Whitby, another to Herr Leutner, Varna; the third was to Coutts & Co., London, and the fourth to Herren Klopstock & Billreuth, bankers, Buda-Pesth. The second and fourth were unsealed. I was just about to look at them when I saw the door-handle move. I sank back in my seat, having just had time to replace the letters as they had been and to resume my book before the Count, holding still another letter in his hand, entered the room. He took up the letters on the table and stamped them carefully, and then turning to me, said:-
"I trust you will forgive me, but I have much work to do in private this evening. You will, I hope, find all things as you wish." At the door he turned, and after a moment's pause said:-
"Let me advise you, my dear young friend- nay, let me warn you with all seriousness, that should you leave these rooms you will not by any chance go to sleep in any other part of the castle. It is old, and has many memories, and there are bad dreams for those who sleep unwisely. Be warned! Should sleep now or ever overcome you, or be like to do, then haste to your own chamber or to these rooms, for your rest will then be safe. But if you be not careful in this respect, then"- He finished his speech in a gruesome way, for he motioned with his hands as if he were washing them. I quite understood; my only doubt was as to whether any dream could be more terrible than the unnatural, horrible net of gloom and mystery which seemed closing round me.
Later.- I endorse the last words written, but this time there is no doubt in question. I shall not fear to sleep in any place where he is not. I have placed the crucifix over the head of my bed- I imagine that my rest is thus freer from dreams; and there it shall remain.
When he left me I went to my room. After a little while, not hearing any sound, I came out and went up the stone stair to where I could look out towards the South. There was some sense of freedom in the vast expanse, inaccessible though it was to me, as compared with the narrow darkness of the courtyard. Looking out on this, I felt that I was indeed in prison, and I seemed to want a breath of fresh air, though it were of the night. I am beginning to feel this nocturnal existence tell on me. It is destroying my nerve. I start at my own shadow, and am full of all sorts of horrible imaginings. God knows that there is ground for my terrible fear in this accursed place! I looked out over the beautiful expanse, bathed in soft yellow moonlight till it was almost as light as day. In the soft light the distant hills became melted, and the shadows in the valleys and gorges of velvety blackness. The mere beauty seemed to cheer me; there was peace and comfort in every breath I drew. As I leaned from the window my eye was caught by something moving a storey below me, and somewhat to my left, where I imagined, from the order of the rooms, that the windows of the Count's own room would look out. The window at which I stood was tall and deep, stone-mullioned, and though weatherworn, was still complete; but it was evidently many a day since the case had been there. I drew back behind the stonework, and looked carefully out.
What I saw was the Count's head coming out from the window. I did not see the face, but I knew the man by the neck and the movement of his back and arms. In any case I could not mistake the hands which I had had so many opportunities of studying. I was at first interested and somewhat amused, for it is wonderful how small a matter will interest and amuse a man when he is a prisoner. But my very feelings changed to repulsion and terror when I saw the whole man slowly emerge from the window and begin to crawl down the castle wall over that dreadful abyss, face down with his cloak spreading out around him like great wings. At first I could not believe my eyes. I thought it was some trick of the moonlight, some weird effect of shadow; but I kept looking, and it could be no delusion. I saw the fingers and toes grasp the corners of the stones, worn clear of the mortar by the stress of years, and by thus using every projection and inequality move downwards with considerable speed, just as a lizard moves along a wall.
What manner of man is this, or what manner of creature is it in the semblance of man? I feel the dread of this horrible place overpowering me; I am in fear- in awful fear- and there is no escape for me; I am encompassed about with terrors that I dare not think of...
15 May.- Once more have I seen the Count go out in his lizard fashion. He moved downwards in a sidelong way, some hundred feet down, and a good deal to the left. He vanished into some hole or window. When his head had disappeared I leaned out to try and see more, but without avail- the distance was too great to allow a proper angle of sight. I knew he had left the castle now, and thought to use the opportunity to explore more than I had dared to do as yet. I went back to the room, and taking a lamp, tried all the doors. They were all locked, as I had expected, and the locks were comparatively new, but I went down the stone stairs to the hall where I had entered originally. I found I could pull back the bolts easily enough and unhook the great chains; but the door was locked, and the key was gone That key must be in the Count's room; I must watch should his door be unlocked, so that I may get it and escape. I went on to make a thorough examination of the various stairs and passages, and to try the doors that opened from them. One or two small rooms near the hall were open, but there was nothing to see in them except old furniture, dusty with age and moth-eaten. At last, however, I found one door at the top of the stairway which, though it seemed to be locked, gave a little under pressure. I tried it harder, and found that it was not really locked, but that the resistance came from the fact that the hinges had fallen somewhat, and the heavy door rested on the floor. Here was an opportunity which I might not have again, so I exerted myself, and with many efforts forced it back so that I could enter. I was now in a wing of the castle further to the right than the rooms I knew and a storey lower down. From the windows I could see that the suite of rooms lay along to the south of the castle, the windows of the end room looking out both west and south. On the latter side, as well as to the former, there was a great precipice. The castle was built on the corner of a great rock, so that on three sides it was quite impregnable, and great windows were placed here where sling, or bow, or culverin could not reach, and consequently light and comfort, impossible to a position which had to be guarded, were secured. To the West was a great valley, and then, rising far away, great jagged mountain fastnesses, rising peak on peak, the sheer rock studded with mountain ash and thorn, whose roots clung in cracks and crevices and crannies of the stone. This was evidently the portion of the castle occupied by the ladies in bygone days, for the furniture had more air of comfort than any I had seen. The windows were curtainless, and the yellow moonlight, flooding in through the diamond panes, enabled one to see even colours, whilst it softened the wealth of dust which lay over all and disguised in some measure the ravages of time and the moth. My lamp seemed to be of little effect in the brilliant moonlight, but I was glad to have it with me, for there was a dread loneliness in the place which chilled my heart and made my nerves tremble. Still, it was better than living alone in the rooms which I had come to hate from the presence of the Count, and after trying a little to school my nerves, I found a soft quietude come over me. Here I am, sitting at a little oak table where in old times possibly some fair lady sat to pen, with much thought and many blushes, her ill-spelt love-letter, and writing in my diary in shorthand all that has happened since I closed it last. It is nineteenth century up-to-date with a vengeance. And yet, unless my senses deceive me, the old centuries had, and have, powers of their own which mere "modernity" cannot kill.
Later: the Morning of 16 May.- God preserve my sanity, for to this I am reduced. Safety and the assurance of safety are things of the past. Whilst I live on here there is but one thing to hope for; that I may not go mad, if, indeed, I be not mad already. If I be sane, then surely it is maddening to think that of all the foul things that lurk in this hateful place the Count is the least dreadful to me; that to him alone I can look for safety, even though this be only whilst I can serve his purpose. Great God! merciful God! Let me be calm, for out of that way lies madness indeed. I begin to get new lights on certain things which have puzzled me. Up to now I never quite knew what Shakespeare meant when he made Hamlet say:-
"My tablets! quick, my tablets! 'Tis meet that I put it down," etc., for now, feeling as though my own brain were unhinged or as if the shock had come which must end in its undoing, I turn to my diary for repose. The habit of entering accurately must help to soothe me.
The Count's mysterious warning frightened me at the time; it frightens me more now, when I think of it, for in future he has a fearful hold upon me. I shall fear to doubt what he may say!
When I had written in my diary and had fortunately replaced the book and pen in my pocket I felt sleepy. The Count's warning came into my mind, but I took a pleasure in disobeying it. The sense of sleep was upon me, and with it the obstinacy which sleep brings as outrider. The soft moonlight soothed, and the wide expanse without gave a sense of freedom which refreshed me. I determined not to return tonight to the gloom-haunted rooms, but to sleep here, where of old ladies had sat and sung and lived sweet lives whilst their gentle breasts were sad for their menfolk away in the midst of remorseless wars. I drew a great couch out of its place near the corner, so that, as I lay, I could look at the lovely view to east and south, and unthinking of and uncaring for the dust, composed myself for sleep. I suppose I must have fallen asleep; I hope so, but I fear, for all that followed was startlingly real- so real that now sitting here in the broad, full sunlight of the morning, I cannot in the least believe that it was all sleep.
I was not alone. The room was the same, unchanged in any way since I came into it; I could see along the floor, in the brilliant moonlight, my own footsteps marked where I had disturbed the long accumulation of dust. In the moonlight opposite me were three young women, ladies by their dress and manner. I thought at the time that I must be dreaming when I saw them, for, though the moonlight was behind them, they threw no shadow on the floor. They came close to me and looked at me for some time, and then whispered together. Two were dark, and had high aquiline noses, like the Count, and great dark, piercing eyes, that seemed to be almost red when contrasted with the pale yellow moon. The other was fair, as fair as can be, with great wavy masses of golden hair and eyes like pale sapphires. I seemed somehow to know her face, and to know it in connection with some dreamy fear, but I could not recollect at the moment how or where. All three had brilliant white teeth, that shone like pearls against the ruby of their voluptuous lips. There was something about them that made me uneasy, some longing and at the same time some deadly fear. I felt in my heart a wicked, burning desire that they would kiss me with those red lips. It is not good to note this down, lest some day it should meet Mina's eyes and cause her pain; but it is the truth. They whispered together, and then they all three laughed- such a silvery, musical laugh, but as hard as though the sound never could have come through the softness of human lips. It was like the intolerable, tingling sweetness of water-glasses when played on by a cunning hand. The fair girl shook her head coquettishly, and the other two urged her on. One said:-
"Go on! You are first, and we shall follow; yours is the right to
begin." The other added:-
"He is young and strong; there are kisses for us all." I lay quiet, looking out under my eyelashes in an agony of delightful anticipation. The fair girl advanced and bent over me till I could feel the movement of her breath upon me. Sweet it was in one sense, honey-sweet, and sent the same tingling through the nerves as her voice, but with a bitter underlying the sweet, a bitter offensiveness, as one smells in blood.
I was afraid to raise my eyelids, but looked out and saw perfectly under the lashes. The girl went on her knees, and bent over me, simply gloating. There was a deliberate voluptuousness which was both thrilling and repulsive, and as she arched her neck she actually licked her lips like an animal, till I could see in the moonlight the moisture shining on the scarlet lips and on the red tongue as it lapped the white sharp teeth. Lower and lower went her head as the lips went below the range of my mouth and chin and seemed about to fasten on my throat. Then she paused, and I could hear the churning sound of her tongue as it licked her teeth and lips, and could feel the hot breath on my neck. Then the skin of my throat began to tingle as one's flesh does when the hand that is to tickle it approaches nearer- nearer. I could feel the soft, shivering touch of the lips on the super-sensitive skin of my throat, and the hard dents of two sharp teeth, just touching and pausing there. I closed my eyes in a languorous ecstasy and waited- waited with beating heart.
But at that instant another sensation swept through me as quick as lightning. I was conscious of the presence of the Count, and of his being as if lapped in a storm of fury. As my eyes opened involuntarily I saw his strong hand grasp the slender neck of the fair woman and with giant's power draw it back, the blue eyes transformed with fury, the white teeth champing with rage, and the fair cheeks blazing red with passion. But the Count! Never did I imagine such wrath and fury, even to the demons of the pit. His eyes were positively blazing. The red light in them was lurid, as if the flames of hell-fire blazed behind them. His face was deathly pale, and the lines of it were hard like drawn wires; the thick eyebrows that met over the nose now seemed like a heaving bar of white-hot metal. With a fierce sweep of his arm, he hurled the woman from him, and then motioned to the others, as though he were beating them back; it was the same imperious gesture that I had seen used to the wolves. In a voice which, though low and almost in a whisper seemed to cut through the air and then ring round the room as he said:-
"How dare you touch him, any of you? How dare you cast eyes on him when I had forbidden it? Back, I tell you all! This man belongs to me! Beware how you meddle with him, or you'll have to deal with me." The fair girl, with a laugh of ribald coquetry, turned to answer him:-
"You yourself never loved; you never love!" On this the other women joined, and such a mirthless, hard, soulless laughter rang through the room that it almost made me faint to hear; it seemed like the pleasure of fiends. Then the Count turned, after looking at my face attentively, and said in a soft whisper:
"Yes, I too can love; you yourselves can tell it from the past. Is it not so? Well, now I promise you that when I am done with him you shall kiss him at your will. Now go! go! I must awaken him, for there is work to be done."
"Are we to have nothing to-night?" said one of them, with a low laugh, as she pointed to the bag which he had thrown upon the floor, and which moved as though there were some living thing within it. For answer he nodded his head. One of the women jumped forward and opened it. If my ears did not deceive me there was a gasp and a low wall, as of a half-smothered child. The women closed round, whilst I was aghast with horror; but as I looked they disappeared, and with them the dreadful bag. There was no door near them, and they could not have passed me without my noticing. They simply seemed to fade into the rays of the moonlight and pass out through the window, for I could see outside the dim, shadowy forms for a moment before they entirely faded away.
"Then the horror overcame me, and I sank down unconscious."


CHAPTER IV.
JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL.
I awoke in my own bed. If it be that I had not dreamt, the Count must have carried me here. I tried to satisfy myself on the subject, but could not arrive at any unquestionable result. To be sure, there were certain small evidences, such as that my clothes were folded and laid by in a manner which was not my habit. My watch was still unwound, and I am rigorously accustomed to wind it the last thing before going to bed, and many such details. But these things are no proof, for they may have been evidences that my mind was not as usual, and, from some cause or another, I had certainly been much upset. I must watch for proof. Of one thing I am glad: if it was that the Count carried me here and undressed me, he must have been hurried in his task, for my pockets are intact. I am sure this diary would have been a mystery to him which he would not have brooked. He would have taken or destroyed it. As I look round this room, although it has been to me so full of fear, it is now a sort of sanctuary, for nothing can be more dreadful than those awful women, who were- who are- waiting to suck my blood.
18 May.- I have been down to look at that room again in daylight, for I must know the truth. When I got to the doorway at the top of the stairs I found it closed. It had been so forcibly driven against the jamb that part of the woodwork was splintered. I could see that the bolt of the lock had not been shot, but the door is fastened from the inside. I fear it was no dream, and must act on this surmise.
19 May.- I am surely in the toils. Last night the Count asked me in the suavest tones to write three letters, one saying that my work here was nearly done, and that I should start for home within a few days, another that I was starting on the next morning from the time of the letter, and the third that I had left the castle and arrived at Bistritz. I would have rebelled, but felt that in the present state of things it would be madness to quarrel openly with the Count whilst I am so absolutely in his power; and to refuse would be to excite his suspicion and to arouse his anger. He knows that I know too much, and that I must not live, lest I be dangerous to him; my only chance is to prolong my opportunities. Something may occur which will give me a chance to escape. I saw in his eyes something of that gathering wrath which was manifest when he hurled that fair woman from him. He explained to me that posts were few and uncertain, and that my writing now would ensure ease of mind to my friends; and he assured me with so much impressiveness that he would countermand the later letters, which would be held over at Bistritz until due time in case chance would admit of my prolonging my stay, that to oppose him would have been to create new suspicion. I therefore pretended to fall in with his views, and asked him what dates I should put on the letters. He calculated a minute, and then said:-
"The first should be June 12, the second June 19, and the third June 29."
I know now the span of my life. God help me!
28 May.- There is a chance of escape, or at any rate of being able to send word home. A band of Szgany have come to the castle, and are encamped in the courtyard. These Szgany are gypsies; I have notes of them in my book. They are peculiar to this part of the world, though allied to the ordinary gypsies all the world over. There are thousands of them in Hungary and Transylvania, who are almost outside all law. They attach themselves as a rule to some great noble or boyar, and call themselves by his name. They are fearless and without religion, save superstition, and they talk only their own varieties of the Romany tongue.
I shall write some letters home, and shall try to get them to have them posted. I have already spoken them through my window to begin acquaintanceship. They took their hats off and made obeisance and many signs, which, however, I could not understand any more than I could their spoken language...
I have written the letters. Mina's is in shorthand, and I simply ask Mr. Hawkins to communicate with her. To her I have explained my situation, but without the horrors which I may only surmise. It would shock and frighten her to death were I to expose my heart to her. Should the letters not carry, then the Count shall not yet know my secret or the extent of my knowledge...
I have given the letters; I threw them through the bars of my window with a gold piece, and made what signs I could to have them posted. The man who took them pressed them to his heart and bowed, and then put them in his cap. I could do no more. I stole back to the study, and began to read. As the Count did not come in, I have written here...
The Count has come. He sat down beside me, and said in his smoothest voice as he opened two letters:-
"The Szgany has given me these, of which, though I know not whence they come, I shall, of course, take care. See!"- he must have looked at it- "one is from you, and to my friend Peter Hawkins; the other"- here he caught sight of the strange symbols as he opened the envelope, and the dark look came into his face, and his eyes blazed wickedly- "the other is a vile thing, an outrage upon friendship and hospitality! It is not signed. Well! so it cannot matter to us." And he calmly held letter and envelope in the flame of the lamp till they were consumed. Then he went on:-
"The letter to Hawkins- that I shall, of course, send on, since it is yours. Your letters are sacred to me. Your pardon, my friend, that unknowingly I did break the seal. Will you not cover it again?" He held out the letter to me, and with a courteous bow handed me a clean envelope. I could only redirect it and hand it to him in silence. When he went out of the room I could hear the key turn softly. A minute later I went over and tried it, and the door was locked.
When, an hour or two after, the Count came quietly into the room; his coming wakened me, for I had gone to sleep on the sofa. He was very courteous and very cheery in his manner, and seeing that I had been sleeping, he said:-
"So, my friend, you are tired? Get to bed. There is the surest rest. I may not have the pleasure to talk to-night, since there are many labors to me; but you will sleep, I pray." I passed to my room and went to bed, and, strange to say, slept without dreaming. Despair has its own calms.
31 May.- This morning when I woke I thought I would provide myself with some paper and envelopes from my bag and keep them in my pocket, so that I might write in case I should get an opportunity; but again a surprise, again a shock!
Every scrap of paper was gone, and with it all my notes, my memoranda, relating to railways and travel, my letter of credit, in fact all that might be useful to me were I once outside the castle. I sat and pondered a while, and then some thought occurred to me, and I made search of my portmanteau and in the wardrobe where I had placed my clothes.
The suit in which I had traveled was gone, and also my overcoat and rug; I could find no trace of them anywhere. This looked like some new scheme of villainy...
17 June.- This morning, as I was sitting on the edge of my bed cudgeling my brains, I heard without a cracking of whips and pounding and scraping of horses' feet up the rocky path beyond the courtyard. With joy I hurried to the window, and saw drive into the yard two great wagons, each drawn by eight sturdy horses, and at the head of each pair of Slovak, with his hat, great, nail-studded belt, dirty sheepskin, and high boots. They had also their long staves in hand. I ran to the door, intending to descend and try and join them through the main hall, as I thought that way might be opened for them. Again a shock: My door was fastened on the outside.
Then I ran to the window and cried to them. They looked up at me stupidly and pointed, but just then the "hetman" of the Szgany came out, and seeing them pointing to my window, said something, at which they laughed. Henceforth no effort of mine, no piteous cry or agonized entreaty, would make them even look at me. They resolutely turned away. The wagons contained great, square boxes, with handles of thick rope; these were evidently empty by the ease with which the Slovaks handled them, and by their resonance as they were roughly moved. When they were all unloaded and packed in a great heap in one corner of the yard, the Slovaks were given some money by the Szgany, and spitting on it for luck, lazily went each to his horse's head. Shortly afterwards I heard the cracking of their whips die away in the distance.
24 June, before morning.- Last night the Count left me early, and locked himself into his own room. As soon as I dared I ran up the winding stair, and looked out of the window, which opened south. I thought I would watch for the Count, for there is something going on. The Szgany are quartered somewhere in the castle, and are doing work of some kind. I know it, for now and then I hear a far-away, muffled sound as of mattock and spade, and, whatever it is, it must be the end of some ruthless villainy.
I had been at the window somewhat less than half an hour, when I saw something coming out of the Count's window. I drew back and watched carefully, and saw the whole man emerge. It was a new shock to me to find that he had on the suit of clothes which I had worn whilst travelling here, and slung over his shoulder the terrible bag which I had seen the women take away. There could be no doubt as to his quest, and in my garb, too! This, then, is his new scheme of evil: that he will allow others to see me, as they think, so that he may both leave evidence that I have been seen in the towns or villages posting my own letters, and that any wickedness which he may do shall by the local people be attributed to me.
It makes me rage to think that this can go on, and whilst I am shut up here, a veritable prisoner, but without that protection of the law which is even a criminal's right and consolation.
I thought I would watch for the Count's return, and for a long time sat doggedly at the window. Then I began to notice that there were some quaint little specks floating in the rays of the moonlight. They were like the tiniest grains of dust, and they whirled round and gathered in clusters in a nebulous sort of way. I watched them with a sense of soothing, and a sort of calm stole over me. I leaned back in the embrasure in a more comfortable position, so that I could enjoy more fully the aerial gamboling.
Something made me start up, a low, piteous howling of dogs somewhere far below in the valley, which was hidden from my sight. Louder it seemed to ring in my ears, and the floating motes of dust to take new shapes to the sound as they danced in the moonlight. I felt myself struggling to awake to some call of my instincts; may, my very soul was struggling, and my half-remembered sensibilities were striving to answer the call. I was becoming hypnotized! Quicker and quicker danced the dust; the moonbeams seemed to quiver as they went by me into the mass of gloom beyond. More and more they gathered till they seemed to take dim phantom shapes. And then I started, broad awake and in full possession of my senses, and ran screaming from the place. The phantom shapes, which were becoming gradually materialized from the moonbeams, were those of the three ghostly women to whom I was doomed. I fled, and felt somewhat safer in my own room, where there was no moonlight and where the lamp was burning brightly.
When a couple of hours had passed I heard something stirring in the Count's room, something like a sharp wail quickly suppressed; and then there was silence, deep, awful silence, which chilled me. With a beating heart, I tried the door; but I was locked in my prison, and could do nothing. I sat down and simply cried.
As I sat I heard a sound in the courtyard without- the agonized cry of a woman. I rushed to the window, and throwing it up, peered out between the bars. There, indeed, was a woman with disheveled hair, holding her hands over her heart as one distressed with running. She was leaning against a corner of the gateway. When she saw my face at the window she threw herself forward, and shouted in a voice laden with menace:-
"Monster, give me my child!"
She threw herself on her knees, and raising up her hands, cried the same words in tones which wrung my heart. Then she tore her hair and beat her breast, and abandoned herself to all the violence's of extravagant emotion. Finally, she threw herself forward, and, though I could not see her, I could hear the beating of her naked hands against the door.
Somewhere high overhead, probably on the tower, I heard the voice of the Count calling in his harsh, metallic whisper. His call seemed to be answered from far and wide by the howling of wolves. Before many minutes had passed a pack of them poured, like a pent-up dam when liberated, through the wide entrance into the courtyard.
There was no cry from the woman, and the howling of the wolves was but short. Before long they streamed away singly, licking their lips.
I could not pity her, for I knew now what had become of her child, and she was better dead.
What shall I do? what can I do? How can I escape from this dreadful thrall of night and gloom and fear?
25 June, morning.- No man knows till he has suffered from the night how sweet and how dear to his heart and eye the morning can be. When the sun grew so high this morning that it struck the top of the great gateway opposite my window, the high spot which it touched seemed to me as if the dove from the ark had lighted there. My fear fell from me as if it had been a vaporous garment which dissolved in the warmth. I must take action of some sort whilst the courage of the day is upon me. Last night one of my post-dated letters went to post, the first of that fatal series which is to blot out the very traces of my existence from the earth.
Let me not think of it. Action!
It has always been at night-time that I have been molested or threatened, or in some way in danger or in fear. I have not yet seen the Count in the daylight. Can it be that he sleeps when others wake, that he may be awake whilst they sleep? if I could only get into his room! But there is no possible way. The door is always locked, no way for me.
Yes, there is a way, if one dares to take it. Where his body has gone why may not another body go? I have seen him myself crawl from his window? Why should not I imitate him, and go in by his window? The chances are desperate, but my need is more desperate still. I shall risk it. At the worst it can only be death; and a man's death is not a calf's, and the dreaded Hereafter may still be open to me. God help me in my task! Good-bye. Mina, if I fail; good-bye, my faithful friend and second father; good-bye, all, and last of all Mina!
Same day, later.- I have made the effort, and, God helping me, have come safely back to this room. I must put down every detail in order. I went whilst my courage was fresh straight to the window on the south side, and at once got outside on the narrow ledge of stone which runs round the building on this side. The stones are big and roughly cut, and the mortar has by process of time been washed away between them. I took off my boots, and ventured out on the desperate way. I looked down once, so as to make sure that a sudden glimpse of the awful depth would not overcome me, but after that kept my eyes away from it. I knew pretty well the direction and distance of the Count's window, and made for it as well as I could, having regard to the opportunities available. I did not feel dizzy- I suppose I was too excited- and the time seemed ridiculously short till I found myself standing on the window-sill and trying to raise up the sash. I was filled with agitation, however, when I bent down and slid feet foremost in through the window. Then I looked around for the Count, but, with surprise and gladness, made a discovery. The room was empty! It was barely furnished with odd things, which seemed to have never been used; the furniture was something the same style as that in the south rooms, and was covered with dust. I looked for the key, but it was not in the lock, and I could not find it anywhere. The only thing I found was a great heap of gold in one corner- gold of all kinds, Roman, and British, and Austrian, and Hungarian, and Greek and Turkish money, covered with a film of dust, as though it had lain long in the ground. None of it that I noticed was less than three hundred years old. There were also chains and ornaments, some jeweled, but all of them old and stained.
At one corner of the room was a heavy door. I tried it, for, since I could not find the key of the room or the key of the outer door, which was the main object of my search, I must make further examination, or all my efforts would be in vain. It was open, and led through a stone passage to a circular stairway, which went steeply down. I descended, minding carefully where I went, for the stairs were dark, being only lit by loopholes in the heavy masonry. At the bottom there was a dark, tunnel-like passage, through which came a deathly, sickly odor, the odor of old earth newly turned. As I went through the passage the smell grew closer and heavier. At last I pulled open a heavy door which stood a jar, and found myself in an old, ruined chapel, which had evidently been used as a graveyard. The roof was broken, and in two places were steps leading to vaults, but the ground had recently been dug over, and the earth placed in great wooden boxes, manifestly those which had been brought by the Slovaks. There was nobody about, and I made search for any further outlet, but there was none. Then I went over every inch of the ground, so as not to lose a chance. I went down even into the vaults, where the dim light struggled, although to do so was a dread to my very soul. Into two of these I went, but saw nothing except fragments of old coffins and piles of dust; in the third, however, I made a discovery.
There, in one of the great boxes, of which there were fifty in all, on a pile of newly dug earth, lay the Count! He was either dead or asleep, I could not say which- for the eyes were open and stony, but without the glassiness of death- and the cheeks had the warmth of life through all their pallor, the lips were as red as ever. But there was no sign of movement, no pulse, no breath, no beating of the heart. I bent over him, and tried to find any sign of life, but in vain. He could not have lain there long, for the earthy smell would have passed away in a few hours. By the side of the box was its cover, pierced with holes here and there. I thought he might have the keys on him, but when I went to search I saw the dead eyes, and in them, dead though they were, such a look of hate, though unconscious of me or my presence, that I fled from the place, and leaving the Count's room by the window, crawled again up the castle wall. Regaining my room chamber, I threw myself panting upon the bed and tried to think...
29 June.- To-day is the date of my last letter, and the Count has taken steps to prove that it was genuine, for again I saw him leave the castle by the same window, and in my clothes. As he went down the wall, lizard fashion, I wished I had a gun or some lethal weapon, that I might destroy him; but I fear that no weapon wrought alone by man's hand would have any effect on him. I dared not wait to see him return, for I feared to see those weird sisters. I came back to the library, and read there till I fell asleep.
I was awakened by the Count, who looked at me as grimly as a man can look as he said:-
"To-morrow, my friend, we must part. You return to your beautiful England, I to some work which may have such an end that we may never meet. Your letter home has been dispatched; to-morrow I shall not be here, but all shall be ready for your journey. In the morning come the Szgany, who have some labours of their own here, and also come some Slovaks. When they have gone, my carriage shall come for you, and shall bear you to the Borgo Pass to meet the diligence from Bukovina to Bistritz. But I am in hopes that I shall see more of you at Castle Dracula." I suspected him, and determined to test his sincerity. Sincerity! it seems like a profanation of the word to write it in connection with such a monster, so asked him point-blank:-
"Why may I not go to-night?"
"Because, dear sir, my coachman and horses are away on a mission."
"But I would walk with pleasure. I want to get away at once." He smiled, such a soft, smooth, diabolical smile that I knew there was some trick behind his smoothness. He said:-
"And your baggage?"
"I do not care about it. I can send for it some other time."
The Count stood up, and said, with a sweet courtesy which made me rub my eyes, it seemed so real:-
"You English have a saying which is close to my heart, for its spirit is that which rules our boyars: 'Welcome the coming; speed the parting guest.' Come with me, my dear young friend. Not an hour shall you wait in my house against your will, though sad am I at your going, and that you so suddenly desire it. Come!" With a stately gravity, he, with the lamp, preceded me down the stairs and along the hall. Suddenly he stopped.
"Hark!"
Close at hand came the howling of many wolves. It was almost as if the sound sprang up at the rising of his hand, just as the music of a great orchestra seems to leap under the baton of the conductor. After a pause of a moment, he proceeded, in his stately way, to the door, drew back the ponderous bolts, unhooked the heavy chains, and began to draw it open.
To my intense astonishment I saw that it was unlocked. Suspiciously I looked all round, but could see no key of any kind.
As the door began to open, the howling of the wolves without grew louder and angrier, their red jaws, with champing teeth, and their blunt-clawed feet as they leaped, came in through the opening door. I knew then that to struggle at the moment against the Count was useless. With such allies as these at his command, I could do nothing. But still the door continued slowly to open, and only the Count's body stood in the gap. Suddenly it struck me that this might be the moment and means of my doom; I was to be given to the wolves, and at my own instigation. There was a diabolical wickedness in the idea great enough for the Count, and as a last chance I cried out:-
"Shut the door; I shall wait till morning!" and covered my face with my hands to hide my tears of bitter disappointment. With one sweep of his powerful arm, the Count threw the door shut, and the great bolts clanged and echoed through the hall as they shot back into their places.
In silence we returned to the library, and after a minute or two I went to my own room. The last I saw of Count Dracula was his kissing his hand to me; with a red light of triumph in his eyes, and with a smile that Judas in hell might be proud of.
When I was in my room and about to lie down, I thought I heard a whispering at my door. I went to it softly and listened. Unless my ears deceived me, I heard the voice of the Count:-
"Back, back, to your own place! Your time is not yet come. Wait! Have patience! To-night is mine. To-morrow night is yours!" There was a low, sweet ripple of laughter, and in a rage I threw open the door, and saw without the three terrible women licking their lips. As I appeared they all joined in a horrible laugh, and ran away.
I came back to my room and threw myself on my knees. It is then so near the end? To-morrow! to-morrow! Lord, help me, and those to whom I am dear!
30 June, morning.- These may be the last words I ever write in this diary. I slept till just before the dawn, and when I woke threw myself on my knees, for I determined that if Death came he should find me ready.
At last I felt that subtle change in the air, and knew that the morning had come. Then came the welcome cock-crow, and I felt that I was safe. With a glad heart, I opened my door and ran down to the hall. I had seen that the door was unlocked, and now escape was before me. With hands that trembled with eagerness, I unhooked the chains and drew back the massive bolts.
But the door would not move. Despair seized me. I pulled, and pulled, at the door, and shook it till, massive as it was, it rattled in its casement. I could see the bolt shot. it had been locked after I left the Count.
Then a wild desire took me to obtain that key at any risk, and I determined then and there to scale the wall again and gain the Count's room. He might kill me, but death now seemed the happier choice of evils. Without a pause I rushed up to the east window, and scrambled down the wall, as before, into the Count's room. It was empty, but that was as I expected. I could not see a key anywhere, but the heap of gold remained. I went through the door in the corner and down the winding stair and along the dark passage to the old chapel. I knew now well enough where to find the monster I sought.
The great box was in the same place, close against the wall, but the lid was laid on it, not fastened down, but with the nails ready in their places to be hammered home. I knew I must reach the body for the key, so I raised the lid, and laid it back against the wall; and then I saw something which filled my very soul with horror. There lay the Count, but looking as if his youth had been half renewed, for the white hair and moustache were changed to dark iron-gray; the cheeks were fuller, and the white skin seemed ruby-red underneath; the mouth was redder than ever, for on the lips were gouts of fresh blood, which trickled from the corners of the mouth and ran over the chin and neck. Even the deep, burning eyes seemed set amongst swollen flesh, for the lids and pouches underneath were bloated. It seemed as if the whole awful creature were simply gorged with blood. He lay like a filthy leech, exhausted with his repletion. I shuddered as I bent over to touch him, and every sense in me revolted at the contact; but I had to search, or I was lost. The coming night might see my own body a banquet in a similar way to those horrid three. I felt all over the body, but no sign could I find of the key. Then I stopped and looked at the Count. There was a mocking smile on the bloated face which seemed to drive me mad. This was the being I was helping to transfer to London, where, perhaps, for centuries to come he might, amongst its teeming millions, satiate his lust for blood, and create a new and ever-widening circle of semi-demons to batten on the helpless. The very thought drove me mad. A terrible desire came upon me to rid the world of such a monster. There was no lethal weapon at hand, but I seized a shovel which the workmen had been using to fill the cases, and lifting it high struck, with the edge downward, at the hateful face. But as I did so the head turned, and the eyes fell full upon me, with all their blaze of basilisk horror. The sight seemed to paralyze me, and the shovel turned in my hand and glanced from the face, merely making a deep gash above the forehead. The shovel fell from my hand across the box, and as I pulled it away the flange of the blade caught the edge of the lid, which fell over again, and hid the horrid thing from my sight. The last glimpse I had was of the bloated face, bloodstained and fixed with a grin of malice which would have held its own in the nethermost hell.
I thought and thought what should be my next move, but my brain seemed on fire, and I waited with a despairing feeling growing over me. As I waited I heard in the distance a gypsy song sung by merry voices coming closer, and through their song the rolling of heavy wheels and the cracking of whips; the Szgany and the Slovaks of whom the Count had spoken were coming. With a last look around and at the box which contained the vile body, I ran from the place and gained the Count's room, determined to rush out at the moment the door should be opened. With strained ears, I listened, and heard downstairs the grinding of the key in the great lock and the falling back of the heavy door. There must have been some other means of entry, or some one had a key for one of the locked doors. Then there came the sound of many feet tramping and dying away in some passage which sent up a clanging echo. I turned to run down again towards the vault, where I might find the new entrance; but at the moment there seemed to come a violent puff of wind, and the door to the winding stair blew to with a shock that set the dust from the lintels flying. When I ran to push it open, I found that it was hopelessly fast. I was again a prisoner, and the net of doom was closing round me more closely.
As I write there is in the passage below a sound of many tramping feet and the crash of weights being set down heavily, doubtless the boxes, with their freight of earth. There is a sound of hammering; it is the box being nailed down. Now I can hear the heavy feet tramping again along the hall, with many other idle feet coming behind them.
The door is shut, and the chains rattle; there is a grinding of the key in the lock; I can hear the key withdraw: then another door opens and shuts; I hear the creaking of lock and bolt.
Hark! in the courtyard and down the rocky way the roll of heavy wheels, the crack of whips, and the chorus of the Szgany as they pass into the distance.
I am alone in the castle with those awful women. Faugh! Mina is a woman, and there is naught in common. They are devils of the Pit!
I shall not remain alone with them; I shall try to scale the castle wall farther than I have yet attempted. I shall take some of the gold with me, lest I want it later. I may find a way from this dreadful place.
And then away for home! away to the quickest and nearest train! away from this cursed spot, from this cursed land, where the devil and his children still walk with earthly feet!
At least God's mercy is better than that of these monsters, and the precipice is steep and high. At its foot a man may sleep- as a man. Good-bye, all! Mina!
CHAPTER V.
LETTERS, ETC.
Letter from Miss Mina Murray to Miss Lucy Westenra.
"9 May.
"My dearest Lucy,-
"Forgive my long delay in writing, but I have been simply overwhelmed with work. The life of an assistant schoolmistress is sometimes trying. I am longing to be with you, and by the sea, where we can talk together freely and build our castles in the air. I have been working very hard lately, because I want to keep up with Jonathan's studies, and I have been practicing shorthand very assiduously. When we are married I shall be able to be useful to Jonathan, and if I can stenograph well enough I can take down what he wants to say in this way and write it out for him on the typewriter, at which also I am practicing very hard. He and I sometimes write letters in shorthand, and he is keeping a stenographic journal of his travels abroad. When I am with you I shall keep a diary in the same way. I don't mean one of those two-pages to-the-week with-Sunday squeezed-in-a-corner diaries, but a sort of journal which I can write in whenever I feel inclined. I do not suppose there will be much of interest to other people; but it is not intended for them. I may show it to Jonathan some day if there is in it anything worth sharing, but it is really an exercise book. I shall try to do what I see lady journalists do: interviewing and writing descriptions and trying to remember conversations. I am told that, with a little practice, one can remember all that goes on or that one hears said during a day. However we shall see. I will tell you of my little plans when we meet I have just had a few hurried lines from Jonathan from Transylvania. He is well, and will be returning in about a week. I am longing to hear all his news. it must be so nice to see strange countries. I wonder if we- I mean Jonathan and I- shall ever see them together. There is the ten o'clock bell ringing. Good-bye.
"Your loving
"Mina.
"Tell me all the news when you write. You have not told me anything for a long time. I hear rumours, and especially of a tall, handsome, curly-haired man???"

Letter, Lucy Westenra to Mina Murray.
"17, Chatham Street
"Wednesday.
"My dearest Mina,-
"I must say you tax me very unfairly with being a bad correspondent. I wrote to you twice since we parted, and your last letter was only your second. Besides, I have nothing to tell you. There is really nothing to interest you. Town is very pleasant just now, and we go a good deal to picture-galleries and for walks and rides in the park. As to the tall, curly-haired man, I suppose it was the one who was with me at the last Pop. Some one has evidently been telling tales. That was Mr. Holmwood. He often comes to see us, and he and mamma get on very well together; they have so many things to talk about in common. We met some time ago a man that would just do for you, if you were not already engaged to Jonathan. He is an excellent parti, being handsome, well off, and of good birth. He is a doctor and really clever. Just fancy! He is only nine-and-twenty, and he has an immense lunatic asylum all under his own care. Mr. Holmwood introduced him to me, and he called here to see us, and often comes now. I think he is one of the most resolute men I ever saw, and yet the most calm. He seems absolutely imperturbable. I can fancy what a wonderful power he must have over his patients. He has a curious habit of looking one straight in the face, as if trying to read one's thoughts. He tries this on very much with me, but I flatter myself he has got a tough nut to crack. I know that from my glass. Do you ever try to read your own face? I do, and I can tell you it is not a bad study, and gives you more trouble than you can well fancy if you have never tried it. He says that I afford him a curious psychological study, and I humbly think I do. I do not, as you know, take sufficient interest in dress to be able to describe the new fashions. Dress is a bore. That is slang again, but never mind; Arthur says that every day. There, it is all out. Mina, we have told all our secrets to each other since we were children; we have slept together and eaten together, and laughed and cried together, and now, though I have spoken, I would like to speak more. Oh, Mina, couldn't you guess? I love him. I am blushing as I write, for although I think he loves me, he has not told me so in words. But oh, Mina, I love him; I love him; I love him! There, that does me good. I wish I were with you, dear, sitting by the fire undressing, as we used to sit; and I would try to tell you what I feel. I do not know how I am writing this even to you. I am afraid to stop, or I should tear up the letter, and I don't want to stop, for I do so want to tell you all. Let me hear from you at once, and tell me all that you think about it. Mina, I must stop. Good-night. Bless me in your prayers; and, Mina, pray for my happiness.
"Lucy.
"P.S.- I need not tell you this is a secret. Good-night again.
"L."

Letter, Lucy Westenra to Mina Murray.
"24 May.
"My dearest Mina,-
"Thanks, and thanks, and thanks again for your sweet letter. It was so nice to be able to tell you and to have your sympathy.
"My dear, it never rains but it pours. How true the old proverbs are. Here am I, who shall be twenty in September, and yet I never had a proposal till to-day, not a real proposal, and to-day I have had three. Just fancy! Three proposals in one day! Isn't it awful I feel sorry, really and truly sorry, for two of the poor fellows. Oh, Mina, I am so happy that I don't know what to do with myself. And three proposals! But, for goodness' sake, don't tell any of the girls, or they would be getting all sorts of extravagant ideas and imagining themselves injured and slighted if in their very first day at home they did not get six at least. Some girls are so vain! You and I, Mina dear, who are engaged and are going to settle down soon soberly into old married women, can despise vanity. Well, I must tell you about the three, but you must keep it a secret, dear, from every one, except, of course, Jonathan. You will tell him, because I would, if I were in your place, certainly tell Arthur. A woman ought to tell her husband everything- don't you think so dear?- and I must be fair. Men like women, certainly their wives, to be quite as fair as they are; and women, I am afraid, are not always quite as fair as they should be. Well, my dear, number One came just before lunch. I told you of him, Dr. John Seward, the lunatic-asylum man, with the strong jaw and the good forehead. He was very cool outwardly, but was nervous all the same. He had evidently been schooling himself as to all sorts of little things, and remembered them; but he almost managed to sit down on his silk hat, which men don't generally do when they are cool, and then when he wanted to appear at ease he kept playing with a lancet in a way that made me nearly scream. He spoke to me, Mina, very straightforwardly. He told me how dear I was to him, though he had known me so little, and what his life would be with me to help and cheer him. He was going to tell me how unhappy he would be if I did not care for him, but when he saw me cry he said that he was a brute and would not add to my present trouble. Then he broke off and asked if I could love him in time; and when I shook my head his hands trembled, and then with some hesitation he asked me if I cared already for any one else. He put it very nicely, saying that he did not want to wring my confidence from me, but only to know, because if a woman's heart was free a man might have hope. And then, Mina, I felt a sort of duty to tell him that there was some one. I only told him that much, and then he stood up, and he looked very strong and very grave as he took both my hands in his and said he hoped I would be happy, and that if I ever wanted a friend I must count him one of my best. Oh, Mina dear, I can't help crying; and you must excuse this letter being all blotted. Being proposed to is all very nice and all that sort of thing, but it isn't at all a happy thing when you have to see a poor fellow, whom you know loves you honestly, going away and looking all broken-hearted, and to know that, no matter what he may say at the moment, you are passing quite out of his life. My dear, I must stop here at present, I feel so miserable, though I am so happy.
"Evening.
"Arthur has just gone, and I feel in better spirits than when I left off, so I can go on telling you about the day. Well, my dear, number two came after lunch. He is such a nice fellow, an American from Texas, and he looks so young and so fresh that it seems almost impossible that he has been to so many places and has had such adventures. I sympathize with poor Desdemona when she had such a dangerous stream poured in her ear, even by a black man. I suppose that we women are such cowards that we think a man will save us from fears, and we marry him. I know now what I would do if I were a man and wanted to make a girl love me. No, I don't, for there was Mr. Morris telling us his stories, and Arthur never told any, and yet- My dear, I am somewhat previous. Mr. Quincey P. Morris found me alone. it seems that a man always does find a girl alone. No, he doesn't, for Arthur tried twice to make a chance, and I helping him all I could; I am not ashamed to say it now. I must tell you beforehand that Mr. Morris doesn't always speak slang- that is to say, he never does so to strangers or before them, for he is really well educated and has exquisite manners- but he found out that it amused me to hear him talk American slang, and whenever I was present, and there was no one to be shocked, he said such funny things. I am afraid, my dear, he has to invent it all, for it fits exactly into whatever else he has to say. But this is a way slang has. I do not know myself if I shall ever speak slang; I do not know if Arthur likes it, as I have never heard him use any as yet. Well, Mr. Morris sat down beside me and looked as happy and jolly as he could, but I could see all the same that he was very nervous. He took my hand in his, and said ever so sweetly:-
"'Miss Lucy, I know I ain't good enough to regulate the fixin's of your little shoes, but I guess if you wait till you find a man that is you will go join them seven young women with the lamps when you quit. Won't you just hitch up alongside of me and let us go down the long road together, driving in double harness?'
"Well, he did look so good-humored and so jolly that it didn't seem half so hard to refuse him as it did poor Dr. Seward; so I said, as lightly as I could, that I did not know anything of hitching, and that I wasn't broken to harness at all yet. Then he said that he had spoken in a light manner, and he hoped that if he had made a mistake in doing so on so grave, so momentous, an occasion for him, I would forgive him. He really did look serious when he was saying it, and I couldn't help feeling a bit serious too- I know, Mina, you will think me a horrid flirt- though I couldn't help feeling a sort of exultation that he was number two in one day. And then, my dear, before I could say a word he began pouring out a perfect torrent of love-making, laying his very heart and soul at my feet. He looked so earnest over it that I shall never again think that a man must be playful always, and never earnest, because he is merry at times. I suppose he saw something in my face which checked him, for he suddenly stopped, and said with a sort of manly fervor that I could have loved him for if I had been free:-
"'Lucy, you are an honest-hearted girl, I know. I should not be here speaking to you as I am now if I did not believe you clean grit, right through to the very depths of your soul. Tell me, like one good fellow to another, is there any one else that you care for? And if there is I'll never trouble you a hair's breadth again, but will be, if you will let me, a very faithful friend.'
"My dear Mina, why are men so noble when we women are so little worthy of them? Here was I almost making fun of this great-hearted, true gentleman. I burst into tears- I am afraid, my dear, you will think this a very sloppy letter in more ways than one- and I really felt very badly. Why can't they let a girl marry three men, or as many as want her, and save all this trouble? But this is heresy, and I must not say it. I am glad to say that, though I was crying, I was able to look into Mr. Morris's brave eyes, and I told him out straight:-
"'Yes, there is some one I love, though he has not told me yet that he even loves me.' I was right to speak to him so frankly, for quite a light came into his face, and he put out both his hands and took mine- I think I put them into his- and said in a hearty way:-
"'That's my brave girl. It's better worth being late for a chance of winning you than being in time for any other girl in the world. Don't cry, my dear. if it's for me, I'm a hard nut to crack; and I take it standing up. If that other fellow doesn't know his
happiness, well, he'd better look for it soon, or he'll have to deal with me. Little girl, your honesty and pluck have made me a friend, and that's rarer than a lover; it's more unselfish anyhow. My dear, I'm going to have a pretty lonely walk between this and Kingdom Come. Won't you give me one kiss? It'll be something to keep off the darkness now and then. You can, you know, if you like, for that other good fellow- he must be a good fellow, my dear, and a fine fellow, or you could not love him- hasn't spoken yet.' That quite won me, Mina, for it was brave and sweet of him, and noble, too, to a rival- wasn't it?- and he so sad; so I leant over and kissed him. He stood up with my two hands in his, and as he looked down into my face- I am afraid I was blushing very much- he said:- "'Little girl, I hold your hand, and you've kissed me, and if these things don't make us friends nothing ever will. Thank you for your sweet honesty to me, and good-bye.' He wrung my hand, and taking up his hat, went straight out of the room without looking back, without a tear or a quiver or a pause; and I am crying like a baby. Oh, why must a man like that be made unhappy when there are lots of girls about who would worship the very ground he trod on? I know I would if I were free- only I don't want to be free. My dear, this quite upset me, and I feel I cannot write of happiness just at once, after telling you of it; and I don't wish to tell of the number three until it can be all happy.
"Ever your loving
"Lucy.
"P.S.- Oh, about number three- I needn't tell you of number three, need I? Besides, it was all so confused; it seemed only a moment from his coming into the room till both his arms were round me, and he was kissing me. I am very, very happy, and I don't know what I have done to deserve it. I must only try in the future to show that I am not ungrateful to God for all His goodness to me in sending to me such a lover, such a husband, and such a friend.
"Good-bye."

Dr. Seward's Diary.
(Kept in phonograph)
25 May.- Ebb tide in appetite to-day. Cannot eat, cannot rest, so diary instead. Since my rebuff of yesterday I have a sort of empty feeling; nothing in the world seems of sufficient importance to be worth the doing... As I knew that the only cure for this sort of thing was work, I went down amongst the patients. I picked out one who has afforded me a study of much interest. He is so quaint in his mined to understand him as well as I can. To-day I seemed to get nearer than ever before to the heart of his mystery.
I questioned him more fully than I had ever done, with a view to making myself master of the facts of his hallucination. in my manner of doing it there was, I now see, something of cruelty. I seemed to wish to keep him to the point of his madness- a thing which I avoid with the patients as I would the mouth of hell.
(Mem., under what circumstances would I not avoid the pit of hell?) Omnia Romae venalia sunt. Hell has its price! verb. sap. If there be anything behind this instinct it will be valuable to trace it afterwards accurately, so I had better commence to do so, therefore-
R. M. Renfield, aetat 59.- Sanguine temperament; great physical strength; morbidly excitable; periods of gloom, ending in some fixed idea which I cannot make out. I presume that the sanguine temperament itself and the disturbing influence end in a
mentally-accomplished finish; a possibly dangerous man, probably dangerous if unselfish. In selfish men caution is as secure an armor for their foes as for themselves. What I think of on this point is, when self is the fixed point the centripetal force is balanced with the centrifugal; when duty, a cause, etc., is the fixed point, the latter force is paramount, and only accident or a series of
accidents can balance it.

Letter, Quincey P. Morris to Hon. Arthur Holmwood.
"25 May.
"My dear Art,-
"We've told yarns by the camp-fire in the prairies; and dressed one another's wounds after trying a landing at the Marquesas; and drunk healths on the shore of Titicaca. There are more yarns to be told, and other wounds to be healed, and another health to be drunk. Won't you let this be at my camp-fire to-morrow night? I have no hesitation in asking you, as I know a certain lady is engaged to a certain dinner-party, and that you are free. There will only be one other, our old pal at the Korea, Jack Seward. He's coming, too, and we both want to mingle our weeps over the wine-cup, and to drink a health with all our hearts to the happiest man in all the wide world, who has won the noblest hear that God has made and the best worth winning. We promise you a hearty welcome, and a loving greeting, and a health as true as your own right hand. We shall both swear to leave you at home if you drink too deep to a certain pair of eyes. Come!
"Yours, as ever and always,
"Quincey P. Morris."



Telegram from Arthur Holmwood to Quincey P Morris.
26 May.
"Count me in every time. I bear messages which will make both your ears tingle.

CHAPTER VI.
MINA MURRAY'S JOURNAL.
24 July. Whitby.- Lucy met me at the station, looking sweeter and lovelier than ever, and we drove up to the house at the Crescent in which they have rooms. This is a lovely place. The little river, the Esk, runs through a deep valley, which broadens out as it comes near the harbor. A great viaduct runs across, with high piers, through which the view seems somehow further away than it really is. The valley is beautifully green, and it is so steep that when you are on the high land on either side you look right across it, unless you are near enough to see down. The houses of the old town- the side away from us- are all red-roofed, and seem piled up one over the other anyhow, like the pictures we see of Nuremberg. Right over the town is the ruin of Whitby Abbey, which was sacked by the Danes, and which is the scene of part of "Marmion," where the girl was built up in the wall. It is a most noble ruin, of immense size, and full of beautiful and romantic bits; there is a legend that a white lady is seen in one of the windows. Between it and the town there is another church, the parish one, round which is a big graveyard, all full of tombstones. This is to my mind the nicest spot in Whitby, for it lies right over the town, and has a full view of the harbor and all up the bay to where the headland called Kettleness stretches out into the sea. it descends so steeply over the harbor that part of the bank has fallen away, and some of the graves have been destroyed. In one place part of the stonework of the graves stretches out over the sandy pathway far below. There are walks, with seats beside them, through the churchyard; and people go and sit there all day long looking at the beautiful view and enjoying the breeze. I shall come and sit here very often myself and work. Indeed, I am writing now, with my book on my knee, and listening to the talk of three old men who are sitting beside me. They seem to do nothing all day but sit up here and talk.
The harbor lies below me, with, on the far side, one long granite wall stretching out into the sea, with a curve outwards at the end of it, in the middle of which is a lighthouse. A heavy sea-wall runs along outside of it. On the near side, the sea-wall makes an elbow crooked inversely, and its end too has a lighthouse. Between the two piers there is a narrow opening into the harbor, which then suddenly widens.
It is nice at high water; but when the tide is out it shoals away to nothing, and there is merely the stream of the Esk, running between banks of sand, with rocks here and there. Outside the harbor on this side there rises for about half a mile a great reef, the sharp edge of which runs straight out from behind the south lighthouse. At the end of it is a buoy with a bell, which swings in bad weather, and sends in a mournful sound on the wind. They have a legend here that when a ship is lost bells are heard out at sea. I must ask the old man about this; he is coming this way...
He is a funny old man. He must be awfully old, for his face is all gnarled and twisted like the bark of a tree. He tells me that he is nearly a hundred, and that he was a sailor in the Greenland fishing fleet when Waterloo was fought. He is, I am afraid, a very skeptical person, for when I asked him about the bells at sea and the White Lady at the abbey he said very brusquely:-
"I wouldn't fash masel' about them, miss. Them things be all wore out. Mind, I don't say that they never was, but I do say that they wasn't in my time. They be all very well for comers and trippers, an' the like, but not for a nice young lady like you. Them feet-folks from York and Leeds that be always eatin' cured herrin's an' drinkin' tea an' lookin' out to buy cheap jet would creed aught. I wonder masel' who'd be bothered tellin' lies to them- even the newspapers, which is full of fool-talk." I thought he would be a good person to learn interesting things from, so I asked him if he would mind telling me something about the whale-fishing in the old days. He was just settling himself to begin when the clock struck six, whereupon he laboured to get up, and said:-
"I must gang ageeanwards home now, miss. My grand-daughter doesn't like to be kept waitin' when the tea is ready, for it takes me time to crammle aboon the grees, for there be a many of 'em; an', miss, I lack belly-timber sairly by the clock."
He hobbled away, and I could see him hurrying, as well as he could, down the steps. The steps are a great feature of the place. They lead from the town up to the church; there are hundreds of them- I do not know how many- and they wind up in a delicate curve; the slope is so gentle that a horse could easily walk up and down them. I think they must originally have had something to do with the abbey. I shall go home too. Lucy went out visiting with her mother, and as they were only duty calls, I did not go. They will be home by this.
1 August.- I came up here an hour ago with Lucy, and we had a most interesting talk with my old friend and the two others who always come and join him. He is evidently the Sir Oracle of them, and I should think must have been in his time a most dictatorial person. He will not admit anything, and downfaces everybody. If he can't out-argue them he bullies them, and then takes their silence for agreement with his views. Lucy was looking sweetly pretty in her white lawn frock, she has got a beautiful colour since she has been here. I noticed that the old men did not lose any time in coming up and sitting near her when we sat down. She is so sweet with old people; I think they all fell in love with her on the spot. Even my old man succumbed and did not contradict her, but gave me double share instead. I got him on the subject of the legends, and he went off at once into a sort of sermon. I must try to remember it and put it down:-
"It be all fool-talk, lock, stock, and barrel; that's what it be, an' nowt else. These bans an' wafts an' boh-ghosts an' barguests an' bogles an' all anent them is only fit to set bairns an' dizzy women a-belderin'. They be nowt but air-blebs. They, an' all grims an' signs an' warnin's, be all invented by parsons an' illsome beuk-bodies an' railway touters to skeer an' scunner hafflin's, an' to get folks to do somethin' that they don't other incline to. It makes me ireful to think o' them. Why, it's them that, not content with printin' lies on paper an' preachin' them out of pulpits, does want to be cuttin' them on the tombsteans. Look here all around you in what airt ye will; all them steans, holdin' up their heads as well as they can out of their pride, is acant- simply tumblin' down with the weight o' the lies wrote on them, 'Here lies the body' or 'Sacred to the memory' wrote on all of them, an' yet in nigh half of them there bean't no bodies at all; an' the memories of them bean't cared a pinch of snuff about, much less sacred. Lies all of them, nothin' but lies of one kind or another! My gog, but it'll be a quare scowderment at the Day of Judgment when they come tumblin' up in their death-sarks, all jouped together an' tryin' to drag their tombsteans with them to prove how good they was; some of them trimmlin' and ditherin', with their hands that dozzened an' slippy from lyin' in the sea that they can't even keep their grup o' them."
I could see from the old fellow's self-satisfied air and the way in which he looked round for the approval of his cronies that he was "showing off," so I put in a word to keep him going:-
"Oh, Mr. Swales, you can't be serious. Surely these tombstones are not all wrong?"
"Yabblins! There may be a poorish few not wrong, savin' where they make out the people too good; for there be folk that do think a balm-bowl be like the sea, if only it be their own. The whole thing be only lies. Now look you here; you come here a stranger, an' you see this kirk-garth." I nodded, for I thought it better to assent, though I did not quite understand his dialect. I knew it had something to do with the church. He went on: "And you consate that all these steans be aboon folk that be happed here, snod an' snog?" I assented again. "Then that be just where the lie comes in. Why, there be scores of these lay-beds that be toom as old Dun's 'bacca-box on Friday night." He nudged one of his companions, and they all laughed. "And my gog! how could they be otherwise? Look at that one, the aftest abaft the bier-bank; read it!" I went over and read:-
"Edward Spencelagh, master mariner, murdered by pirates off the coast of Andres, April, 1854, aet. 30." When I came back Mr. Swales went on:-
"Who brought him home, I wonder, to hap him here? Murdered off the coast of Andres! an' you consated his body lay under! Why, I could name ye a dozen whose bones lie in the Greenland seas above"- he pointed northwards- "or where the currents may have drifted them. There be the steans around ye. Ye can, with your young eyes, read the small-print of the lies from here. This Braithwaite Lowrey- I knew his father, lost in the Lively off Greenland in '20; or Andrew Woodhouse, drowned in the same seas in 1777; or John Paxton, drowned off Cape Farewell a year later; or old John Rawlings, whose grandfather sailed with me, drowned in the Gulf of Finland in '50. Do ye think that all these men will have to make a rush to Whitby when the trumpet sounds? I have me antherums about it! I tell ye that when they got here they'd be jommlin' an' jostlin' one another that way that it 'ud be like a fight up on the ice in the old days, when we'd be at one another from daylight to dark, an' tryin' to tie up our cuts by the light of the aurora borealis." This was evidently local pleasantry, for the old man cackled over it, and his cronies joined in with gusto.
"But," I said, "surely you are not quite correct, for you start on the assumption that all the poor people, or their spirits, will have to take their tombstones with them on the Day of Judgment. Do you think that will be really necessary?"
"Well what else be they tombstones for? Answer me that, miss!"
"To please their relatives, I suppose."
"To please their relatives, you suppose!" This he said with intense scorn. "How will it pleasure their relatives to know that lies is wrote over them, and that everybody in the place knows that they be lies?" He pointed to a stone at our feet which had been laid down as a slab, on which the seat was rested, close to the edge of the cliff. "Read the lies on that thruff-stean," he said. The letters were upside down to me from where I sat, but Lucy was more opposite to them, so she leant over and read:-
"Sacred to the memory of George Canon, who died, in the hope of a glorious resurrection, on July 29, 1873, falling from the rocks at Kettleness. This tomb is erected by his sorrowing mother to her dearly beloved son. 'He was the only son of his mother, and she was a widow.'" "Really, Mr. Swales, I don't see anything very funny in that!" She spoke her comment very gravely and somewhat severely.
"Ye don't see aught funny! Ha! ha! But that's because ye don't gawm the sorrowin' mother was a hell-cat that hated him because he was acrewk'd- a regular lamiter he was- an' he hated her so that he committed suicide in order that she mightn't get an insurance she put on his life. He blew night the top of his head off with an old musket that they had for scarin' the crows with. 'Twarn't for crows then, for it brought the clegs and the dowps to him. That's the way he fell off the rocks. And, as to hopes of a glorious resurrection, I've often heard him say masel' that he hoped he'd go to hell, for his mother was so pious that she'd be sure to go to heaven, an' he didn't wan't to addle where she was. Now isn't that stean at any rate"- he hammered it with his stick as he spoke- "a pack of lies? and won't it make Gabriel keckle when Geordie comes pantin' up the grees with the tombstean balanced on his hump, and asks it to be took as evidence!"
I did not know what to say, but Lucy turned the conversation as she said, rising up:-
"Oh why did you tell us of this? it is my favorite seat, and I cannot leave it; and now I find I must go on sitting over the grave of a suicide."
"That won't harm ye, my pretty; an' it may make poor Geordie gladsome to have so trim a lass sittin' on his lap. That won't hurt ye. Why, I've sat here off an' on for nigh twenty years past, an' it hasn't done me no harm. Don't ye fash about them as lies under ye, or that doesn' lie there either! it'll be time for ye to be getting scart when ye see the tombsteans all run away with, and the place as bare as a stubble-field. There's the clock, an' I must gang. My service to ye, ladies!" And off he hobbled.
Lucy and I sat a while, and it was all so beautiful before us that we took hands as we sat; and she told me all over again about Arthur and their coming marriage. That made me just a little heart-sick, for I haven't heard from Jonathan for a whole month.
The same day.-
I came up here alone, for I am very sad. There was no letter for me. I hope there cannot be anything the matter with
Jonathan. The clock has just struck nine. I see the lights scattered all over the town, sometimes in rows where the streets are, and sometimes singly; they run right up the Esk and die away in the curve of the valley. To my left the view is cut off by a black line of roof of the old house next the abbey. The sheep and lambs are bleating in the fields away behind me, and there is a clatter of donkey's hoofs up the paved road below. The band on the pier is playing a harsh waltz in good time, and further along the quay there is a Salvation Army meeting in a back street. Neither of the bands hears the other, but up here I hear and see them both. I wonder where Jonathan is and if he is thinking of me! I wish he were here.

Dr. Seward's Diary.
5 June.- The case of Renfield grows more interesting the more I get to understand the man. He has certain qualities very largely developed; selfishness, secrecy, and purpose. I wish I could get at what is the object of the latter. He seems to have some settled scheme of his own, but what it is I do not yet know. His redeeming quality is a love of animals, though, indeed, he has such curious turns in it that I sometimes imagine he is only abnormally cruel. His pets are of odd sorts. Just now his hobby is catching flies. He has at present such a quantity that I have had myself to expostulate. To my astonishment, he did not break out into a fury, as I expected, but took the matter in simple seriousness. He thought for a moment, and then said: "May I have three days? I shall clear them away." Of course, I said that would do. I must watch him.
18 June.- He has turned his mind now to spiders, and has got several big fellows in a box. He keeps feeding them with his flies, and the number of the latter is becoming sensibly diminished, although he has used half his food in attracting more flies from outside to his room.
1 July.- His spiders are now becoming as great a nuisance as his flies, and to-day I told him that he must get rid of them. He looked very sad at this, so I said that he must clear out some of them, at all events. He cheerfully acquiesced in this, and I gave him the same time as before for reduction. He disgusted me much while with him, for when a horrid blow-fly, bloated with some carrion food, buzzed into the room, he caught it, held it exultantly for a few moments between his finger and thumb, and, before I knew what he was going to do, put it in his mouth and ate it. I scolded him for it, but he argued quietly that it was very good and very wholesome; that it was life, strong life, and gave life to him. This gave me an idea, or the rudiment of one. I must watch how he gets rid of his spiders. He has evidently some deep problem in his mind for he keeps a little note-book in which he is always jotting down something. Whole pages of it are filled with masses of figures, generally single numbers added up in batches, and then the totals added in batches again, as though he were "focussing" some account, as the auditors put it.
8 July.- There is a method in his madness, and the rudimentary idea in my mind is growing. It will be a whole idea soon, and then, oh, unconscious cerebration! you will have to give the wall to your conscious brother. I kept away from my friend for a few days, so that I might notice if there were any change. Things remain as they were except that he has parted with some of his pets and got a new one. He has managed to get a sparrow, and has already partially tamed it. His means of taming is simple, for already the spiders have diminished. Those that do remain, however, are well fed, for he still brings in the flies by tempting them with his food.
19 July.- We are progressing. My friend has now a whole colony of sparrows, and his flies and spiders are almost obliterated. When I came in he ran to me and said he wanted to ask me a great favor- a very, very great favor; and as he spoke he fawned on me like a dog. I asked him what it was, and he said, with a sort of rapture in his voice and bearing:-
"A kitten, a nice little, sleek, playful kitten, that I can play with, and teach, and feed- and feed and feed!" I was not unprepared for this request, for I had noticed how his pets went on increasing in size and vivacity, but I did not care that his pretty family of tame sparrows should be wiped out in the same manner as the flies and the spiders; so I said I would see about it, and asked him if he would not rather have a cat than a kitten. His eagerness betrayed him as he answered:-
"Oh, yes, I would like a cat! I only asked for a kitten lest you should refuse me a cat. No one would refuse me a kitten, would they?" I shook my head, and said that at present I feared it would not be possible, but that I would see about it. His face fell, and I could see a warning of danger in it, for there was a sudden fierce, sidelong, look which meant killing. The man is an undeveloped homicidal maniac. I shall test him with his present craving and see how it will work out; then I shall know more.
10 p.m.- I have visited him again and found him sitting in a corner brooding. When I came in he threw himself on his knees before me and implored me to let him have a cat; that his salvation depended upon it. I was firm, however, and told him that he could not have it, whereupon he went without a word, and sat down, gnawing his fingers, in the corner where I had found him. I shall see him in the morning early.
20 July.- Visited Renfield very early, before the attendant went his rounds. Found him up and humming a tune. He was spreading out his sugar, which he had saved, in the window, and was manifestly beginning his fly-catching again; and beginning it cheerfully and with a good grace. I looked around for his birds, and not seeing them, asked him where they were. He replied, without turning round, that they had all flown away. There were a few feathers about the room and on his pillow a drop of blood. I said nothing, but went and told the keeper to report to me if there were anything odd about him during the day.
11 a.m.- The attendant has just been to me to say that Renfield has been very sick and has disgorged a whole lot of feathers. "My belief is, doctor," he said, "that he has eaten his birds, and that he just took and ate them raw!"
11 p.m.- I gave Renfield a strong opiate to-night, enough to make even him sleep, and took away his pocket-book to look at it. The thought that has been buzzing about my brain lately is complete, and the theory proved. My homicidal maniac is of a peculiar kind. I shall have to invent a new classification for him, and call him a zoophagous (life-eating) maniac; what he desires is to absorb as many lives as he can, and he has laid himself out to achieve it in a cumulative way. He gave many flies to one spider and many spiders to one bird, and then wanted a cat to eat the many birds. What would have been his later steps? It would almost be worth while to complete the experiment. It might be done if there were only a sufficient cause. Men sneered at vivisection, and yet look at its results to-day! Why not advance science in its most difficult and vital aspect- the knowledge of the brain? Had I even the secret of one such mind- did I hold the key to the fancy of even one lunatic- I might advance my own branch of science to a pitch compared with which Burdon-Sanderson's physiology or Ferrier's brain-knowledge would be as nothing. If only there were a sufficient cause! I must not think too much of this, or I may be tempted; a good cause might turn the scale with me, for may not I too be of an exceptional brain, congenitally?
How well the man reasoned; lunatics always do within their own scope. I wonder at how many lives he values a man, or if at only one. He has closed the account most accurately, and to-day begun a new record. How many of us begin a new record with each day of our lives?
To me it seems only yesterday that my whole life ended with my new hope, and that truly I began a new record. So it will be until the Great Recorder sums me up and closes my ledger account with a balance to profit or loss. Oh, Lucy, Lucy, I cannot be angry with you' nor can I be angry with my friend whose happiness is yours; but I must only wait on hopeless and work. Work! work!
If I only could have as strong a cause as my poor mad friend there- a good, unselfish cause to make me work- that would be indeed happiness.

Mina Murray's Journal.
26 July.- I am anxious, and it soothes me to express myself here; it is like whispering to one's self and listening at the same time. And there is also something about the shorthand symbols that makes it different from writing. I am unhappy about Lucy and about Jonathan. I had not heard from Jonathan for some time, and was very concerned; but yesterday dear Mr. Hawkins, who is always so kind, sent me a letter from him. I had written asking him if he had heard, and he said the enclosed had just been received. It is only a line dated from Castle Dracula, and says that he is just starting for home. That is not like Jonathan; I do not understand it, and it makes me uneasy. Then, too, Lucy, although she is so well, has lately taken to her old habit of walking in her sleep. Her mother has spoken to me about it, and we have decided that I am to lock the door of our room every night. Mrs. Westenra has got an idea that sleep-walkers always go out on roofs of houses and along the edges of cliffs, and then get suddenly wakened and fall over with a despairing cry that echoes all over the place. Poor dear, she is naturally anxious about Lucy, and she tells me that her husband, Lucy's father, had the same habit; that he would get up in the night and dress himself and go out, if he were not stopped. Lucy is to be married in the autumn, and she is already planning out her dresses and how her house is to be arranged. I sympathize with her, for I do the same, only Jonathan and I will start in life in a very simple way, and shall have to try to make both ends meet. Mr. Holmwood- he is the Hon. Arthur Holmwood, only son of Lord Godalming- is coming up here very shortly- as soon as he can leave town, for his father is not very well, and I think dear Lucy is counting the moments till he comes. She wants to take him up to the seat on the churchyard cliff and show him the beauty of Whitby. I daresay it is the waiting which disturbs her; she will be all right when he arrives.
27 July.- No news from Jonathan. I am getting quite uneasy about him, though why I should I do not know; but I do wish that he would write, if it were only a single line. Lucy walks more than ever, and each night I am awakened by her moving about the room. Fortunately, the weather is so hot that she cannot get cold; but still the anxiety and the perpetually being wakened is beginning to tell on me, and I am getting nervous and wakeful myself. Thank God, Lucy's health keeps up. Mr. Holmwood has been suddenly called to Ring to see his father, who has been taken seriously ill. Lucy frets at the postponement of seeing him, but it does not touch her looks; she is a trifle stouter, and her cheeks are a lovely rose pink. She has lost that anemic look which she had. I pray it will all last.
3 August.- Another week gone, and no news from Jonathan, not even to Mr. Hawkins, from whom I have heard. Oh, I do hope he is not ill. He surely would have written. I look at that last letter of his, but somehow it does not satisfy me. It does not read like him, and yet it is his writing. There is no mistake of that. Lucy has not walked much in her sleep the last week, but there is an odd concentration about her which I do not understand; even in her sleep she seems to be watching me. She tries the door, and finding it locked, goes about the room searching for the key.
6 August.- Another three days, and no news. This suspense is getting dreadful. If I only knew where to write to or where to go to, I should feel easier; but no one has heard a word of Jonathan since that last letter. I must only pray to God for patience. Lucy is more excitable than ever, but is otherwise well. Last night was very threatening, and the fishermen say that we are in for a storm. I must try to watch it and learn the weather signs. To-day is a grey day, and the sun as I write is hidden in thick clouds, high over Kettleness. Everything is gray- except the green grass, which seems like emerald amongst it; gray earthy rock; gray clouds, tinged with the sunburst at the far edge, hang over the gray sea, into which the sand-points stretch like gray fingers. The sea is tumbling in over the shallows and the sandy flats with a roar, muffled in the sea-mists drifting inland. The horizon is lost in a gray mist. All is vastness; the clouds are piled up like giant rocks, and there is a "brool" over the sea that sounds like some presage of doom. Dark figures are on the beach here and there, sometimes half shrouded in the mist, and seem "men like trees walking." The fishing-boats are racing for home, and rise and dip in the ground swell as they sweep into the harbour, bending to the scuppers. Here comes old Mr. Swales. He is making straight for me, and I can see, by the way he lifts his hat, that he wants to talk...
I have been quite touched by the change in the poor old man. When he sat down beside me, he said in a very gentle way:- "I want to say something to you, miss." I could see he was not at ease, so I took his poor old wrinkled hand in mine and asked him to speak fully; so he said, leaving his hand in mine:-
"I'm afraid, my deary, that I must have shocked you by all the wicked things I've been sayin' about the dead, and such like, for weeks past; but I didn't mean them, and I want ye to remember that when I'm gone. We aud folks that be daffled, and with one foot abaft the krok-hooal, don't altogether like to think of it, and we don't want to feel scart of it; an' that's why I've took to makin' light of it, so that I'd cheer up my own heart a bit. But, Lord love ye, miss, I ain't afraid of dyin', not a bit; only I don't want to die if I can help it. My time must be nigh at hand now, for I be aud, and a hundred years is too much for any man to expect; and I'm so nigh it that the Aud Man is already whettin' his scythe. Ye see, I can't get out o' the habit of affin' about it all at once: the chafts will wag as they be used to. Some day soon the Angel of Death will sound his trumpet for me. But don't ye dooal an' greet, my deary!"- for he saw that I was crying- "if he should come this very night I'd not refuse to answer his call. For life be, after all, only a waitin' for somethin' else than what we're doin'; and death be all that we can rightly depend on. But I'm content, for it's comin' to me, my deary, and comin' quick. It may be comin' while we be lookin' and wonderin'. Maybe it's in that wind out over the sea that's bringin' with it loss and wreck, and sore distress, and sad hearts. Look! look!" he cried suddenly. "There's something in that wind and in the hoast beyont that sounds, and looks, and tastes, and smells like death. It's in the air, I feel it comin. Lord, make me answer cheerful when my call comes!" He held up his arms devoutly, and raised his hat. His mouth moved as though he were praying. After a few minutes' silence, he got up, shook hands with me, and blessed me, and said good-bye, and hobbled off. It all touched me, and upset me very much.
I was glad when the coastguard came along, with his spyglass under his arm. He stopped to talk with me, as he always does, but all the time kept looking at a strange ship.
"I can't make her out," he said; "she's a Russian, by the look of her; but she's knocking about in the queerest way. She doesn't know her mind a bit; she seems to see the storm coming, but can't decide whether to run up north in the open, or to put in here. Look there again! She is steered mighty strangely, for she doesn't mind the hand on the wheel; changes about with every puff of wind. We'll hear more of her before this time to-morrow."


CHAPTER VII.
CUTTING FROM "THE DAILYGRAPH".
(Pasted in Mina Murray's Journal.)
From a Correspondent.
8 August. Whitby
One of the greatest and suddenness storms on record has just been experienced here, with results both strange and unique. The weather had been somewhat sultry, but not to any degree uncommon in the month of August. Saturday evening was as fine as was ever known, and the great body of holiday-makers laid out yesterday for visits to Mulgrave Woods, Robin Hood's Bay, Rig Mill, Runswick, Staithes, and the various trips in the neighbourhood of Whitby. The steamers Emma and Scarborough made trips up and down the coast, and there was an unusual amount of "tripping" both to and from Whitby. The day was unusually fine till the afternoon, when some of the gossips who frequent the East Cliff churchyard, and from that commanding eminence watch the wide sweep of sea visible to the north and east, called attention to a sudden show of "mares'-tails" high in the sky to the north-west. The wind was then blowing from the south-west in the mild degree which in barometrical language is ranked "No. 2: light breeze." The coastguard on duty at once made report, and one old fisherman, who for more than half a century has kept watch on weather signs from the East Cliff, foretold in an emphatic manner the coming of a sudden storm. The approach of sunset was so very beautiful, so grand in its masses of splendidly-coloured clouds, that there was quite an assemblage on the walk along the cliff in the old churchyard to enjoy the beauty. Before the sun dipped blow the black mass of Kettleness, standing boldly athwart the western sky, its downward way was marked by myriad clouds of every sunset-colour- flame, purple, pink, green, violet, and all the tints of gold; with here and there masses not large, but of seemingly absolute blackness, in all sorts of shapes, as well outlined as colossal silhouettes. The experience was not lost on the painters, and doubtless some of the sketches of the "Prelude to the Great Storm" will grace the R.A. and R.I. walls in May next. More than one captain made up his mind then and there that his "cobble" or his "mule," as they term the different classes of boats, would remain in the harbour till the storm had passed. The wind fell away entirely during the evening, and at midnight there was a dead calm, a sultry heat, and that prevailing intensity which, on the approach of thunder, affects persons of a sensitive nature. There were but few lights in sight at sea, for even the coasting steamers, which usually "hug" the shore so closely, kept well to seaward, and but few fishing-boats were in sight. The only sail noticeable was a foreign schooner with all sails set, which was seemingly going westwards. The foolhardiness or ignorance of her officers was a prolific theme for comment whilst she remained in sight, and efforts were made to signal her to reduce sail in face of her danger. Before the night shut down she was seen with sails idly napping as she gently rolled on the undulating swell of the sea,
"As idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean."
Shortly before ten o'clock the stillness of the air grew quite oppressive, and the silence was so marked that the bleating of a sheep inland or the barking of a dog in the town was distinctly heard, and the band on the pier, with its lively French air, was like a discord in the great harmony of nature's silence. A little after midnight came a strange sound from over the sea, and high overhead the air began to carry a strange, faint, hollow booming.
Then without warning the tempest broke. With a rapidity which, at the time, seemed incredible, and even afterwards is impossible to realize, the whole aspect of nature at once became convulsed. The waves rose in growing fury, each overtopping its fellow, till in a very few minutes the lately glassy sea was like a roaring and devouring monster. White-crested waves beat madly on the level sands and rushed up the shelving cliffs; others broke over the piers, and with their spume swept the lanthorns of the lighthouses which rise from the end of either pier of Whitby Harbour. The wind roared like thunder, and blew with such force that it was with difficulty that even strong men kept their feet, or clung with grim clasp to the iron stanchions. It was found necessary to clear the entire piers from the mass of onlookers, or else the fatalities of the night would have been increased manifold. To add to the difficulties and dangers of the time, masses of sea-fog came drifting inland- white, wet clouds, which swept by in ghostly fashion, so dank and damp and cold that it needed but little effort of imagination to think that the spirits of those lost at sea were touching their living brethren with the clammy hands of death, and many a one shuddered as the wreaths of sea-mist swept by. At times the mist cleared, and the sea for some distance could be seen in the glare of the lightning, which now came thick and fast, followed by such sudden peals of thunder that the whole sky overhead seemed trembling under the shock of the footsteps of the storm.
Some of the scenes thus revealed were of immeasurable grandeur and of absorbing interest- the sea, running mountains high, threw skywards with each wave mighty masses of white foam, which the tempest seemed to snatch at and whirl away into space; here and there a fishing-boat, with a rag of sail, running madly for shelter before the blast; now and again the white wings of a storm-tossed sea-bird. On the summit of the East Cliff the new searchlight was ready for experiment, but had not yet been tried. The officers in charge of it got it into working order, and in the pauses of the in rushing mist swept with it the surface of the sea. Once or twice its service was most effective, as when a fishing-boat, with gunwale under water, rushed into the harbour, able, by the guidance of the sheltering light, to avoid the danger of dashing against the piers. As each boat achieved the safety of the port there was a shout of joy from the mass of people on shore, a shout which for a moment seemed to cleave the gale and was then swept away in its rush.
Before long the searchlight discovered some distance away a schooner with all sails set, apparently the same vessel which had been noticed earlier in the evening. The wind had by this time backed to the east, and there was a shudder amongst the watchers on the cliff as they realized the terrible danger in which she now was. Between her and the port lay the great flat reef on which so many good ships have from time to time suffered, and, with the wind blowing from its present quarter, it would be quite impossible that she should fetch the entrance of the harbour. It was now nearly the hour of high tide, but the waves were so great that in their troughs the shallows of the shore were almost visible, and the schooner, with all sails set, was rushing with such speed that, in the words of one old salt, "she must fetch up somewhere, if it was only in hell." Then came another rush of sea-fog, greater than any hitherto- a mass of dank mist, which seemed to close on all things like a gray pall, and left available to men only the organ of hearing, for the roar of the tempest, and the crash of the thunder, and the booming of the mighty billows came through the damp oblivion even louder than before. The rays of the searchlight were kept fixed on the harbour mouth across the East Pier, where the shock was expected, and men waited breathless. The wind suddenly shifted to the northeast, and the remnant of the sea-fog melted in the blast; and then, mirabile dictu, between the piers, leaping from wave to wave as it rushed at headlong speed, swept the strange schooner before the blast, with all sail set, and gained the safety of the harbour. The search-light followed her, and a shudder ran through all who saw her, for lashed to the helm was a corpse, with drooping head, which swung horribly to and fro at each motion of the ship. No other form could be seen on deck at all. A great awe came on all as they realized that the ship, as if by a miracle, had found the harbour, unsteered save by the hand of a dead man! However, all took place more quickly than it takes to write these words. The schooner paused not, but rushing across the harbour, pitched herself on that accumulation of sand and gravel washed by many tides and many storms into the south-east corner of the pier jutting under the East Cliff, known locally as Tate Hill Pier.
There was of course a considerable concussion as the vessel drove up on the sand heap. Every spar, rope, and stay was strained, and some of the "top-hammer" came crashing down. But, strangest of all, the very instant the shore was touched, an immense dog sprang up on deck from below, as if shot up by the concussion, and running forward, jumped from the bow on the sand. Making straight for the steep cliff, where the churchyard hangs over the laneway to the East Pier so steeply that some of the flat tombstones- "thruff-steans" or "through-stones," as they call them in the Whitby vernacular- actually project over where the sustaining cliff has fallen away, it disappeared in the darkness, which seemed intensified just beyond the focus of the searchlight.
It so happened that there was no one at the moment on Tate Hill Pier, as all those whose houses are in close proximity were either in bed or were out on the heights above. Thus the coastguard on duty on the eastern side of the harbour, who at once ran down to the little pier, was the first to climb on board. The men working the searchlight, after scouring the entrance of the harbour without seeing anything, then turned the light on the derelict and kept it there. The coastguard ran aft, and when he came beside the wheel, bent over to examine it, and recoiled at once as though under some sudden emotion. This seemed to pique general curiosity, and quite a number of people began to run. It is a good way round from the West Cliff by the Drawbridge to Tate Hill Pier, but your correspondent is a fairly good runner, and came well ahead of the crowd. When I arrived, however, I found already assembled on the pier a crowd, whom the coastguard and police refused to allow to come on board. By the courtesy of the chief boatman, I was, as your correspondent, permitted to climb on deck, and was one of a small group who saw the dead seaman whilst actually lashed to the wheel.
It was no wonder that the coastguard was surprised, or even awed, for not often can such a sight have been seen. The man was simply fastened by his hands, tied one over the other, to a spoke of the wheel. Between the inner hand and the wood was a crucifix, the set of beads on which it was fastened being around both wrists and wheel, and all kept fast by the binding cords. The poor fellow may have been seated at one time, but the flapping and buffeting of the sails had worked through the rudder of the wheel and dragged him to and fro, so that the cords with which he was tied had cut the flesh to the bone. Accurate note was made of the state of things, and a doctor- Surgeon J. M. Caffyn, of 33, East Elliot Place- who came immediately after me, declared, after making examination, that the man must have been dead for quite two days. In his pocket was a bottle, carefully corked, empty save for a little roll of paper, which proved to be the addendum to the log. The coastguard said the man must have tied up his own hands, fastening the knots with his teeth. The fact that a coastguard was the first on board may save some complications, later on, in the Admiralty Court; for coastguards cannot claim the salvage which is the tight of the first civilian entering on a derelict. Already however, the legal tongues are wagging, and one young law student is loudly asserting that the rights of the owner are already completely sacrificed, his property being held in contravention of the statutes of mortmain, since the tiller, as emblemship, if not proof, of delegated possession, is held in a dead hand. It is needless to say that the dead steersman has been reverently removed from the place where he held his honourable watch and ward till death- a steadfastness as noble as that of the young Casablanca- and placed in the mortuary to await inquest.
Already the sudden storm is passing, and its fierceness is abating; crowds are scattering homeward, and the sky is beginning to redden over the Yorkshire wolds. I shall send, in time for your next issue, further details of the derelict ship which found her way so miraculously into harbour in the storm.
Whitby.
9 August.- The sequel to the strange arrival of the derelict in the storm last night is almost more startling than the thing itself. It turns out that the schooner is a Russian from Varna, and is called the Demeter. She is almost entirely in ballast of silver sand, with only a small amount of cargo- a number of great wooden boxes filled with mould. This cargo was consigned to a Whitby solicitor, Mr. S. F. Billington, of 7, The Crescent, who this morning went aboard and formally took possession of the goods consigned to him. The Russian consul, too, acting for the charter-party, took formal possession of the ship, and paid all harbour dues, etc. Nothing is talked about here to-day except the strange coincidence; the officials of the Board of Trade have been most exacting in seeing that every compliance has been made with existing regulations. As the matter is to be a "nine days' wonder," they are evidently determined that there shall be no cause of after complaint. A good deal of interest was abroad concerning the dog which landed when the ship struck, and more than a few of the members of the S.P.C.A., which is very strong in Whitby, have tried to befriend the animal. To the general disappointment, however, it was not to be found; it seems to have disappeared entirely from the town. It may be that it was frightened and made its way on to the moors, where it is still hiding in terror. There are some who look with dread on such a possibility, lest later on it should in itself become a danger, for it is evidently a fierce brute. Early this morning a large dog, a half-bred mastiff belonging to a coal merchant close to Tate Hill Pier, was found dead in the roadway opposite to master's yard. It had been fighting, and manifestly had had a savage opponent, for its throat was torn away, and its belly was slit open as if with a savage claw.
Later.- By the kindness of the Board of Trade inspector, I have been permitted to look over the log-book of the Demeter, which was in order up to within three days, but contained nothing of special interest except as to facts of missing men. The greatest interest, however, is with regard to the paper found in the bottle, which was to-day produced at the inquest; and a more strange narrative than the two between them unfold it has not been my lot to come across. As there is no motive for concealment, I am permitted to use them, and accordingly send you a rescript, simply omitting technical details of seamanship and supercargo. It almost seems as though the captain had been seized with some kind of mania before he had got well into blue water, and that this had developed persistently throughout the voyage. Of course my statement must be taken cum grano, since I am writing from the dictation of a clerk of the Russian consul, who kindly translated for me, time being short.
LOG OF THE "DEMETER."
Varna to Whitby.
Written 18 July, things so strange happening, that I shall keep accurate note henceforth till we land.
On 6 July we finished taking in cargo, silver sand and boxes of earth. At noon set sail. East wind, fresh. Crew, five hands,... two mates, cook, and myself (captain).
On 11 July at dawn entered Bosphorus. Boarded by Turkish Customs officers. Backsheesh. All correct. Under way at 4 p.m.
On 12 July through Dardanelles. More Customs officers and flagboat of guarding squadron,. Backsheesh again. Work of officers thorough, but quick. Want us off soon. At dark passed into Archipelago.
On 13 July passed Cape Matapan. Crew dissatisfied about something. Seemed scared, but would not speak out.
On 14 July was somewhat anxious about crew. Men all steady fellows, who sailed with me before. Mate could not make out what was wrong; they only told him there was something, and crossed themselves. Mate lost temper with one of them that day and struck him. Expected fierce quarrel, but all was quiet.
On 16 July mate reported in the morning that one of crew, Petrofsky, was missing. Could not account for it. Took larboard watch eight bells last night; was relieved by Abramoff, but did not go to bunk. Men more downcast than ever. All said they expected something of the kind, but would not say more than that there was something aboard. Mate getting very impatient with them; feared some trouble ahead.
On 17 July, yesterday, one of the men, Olgaren, came to my cabin, and in an awestruck way confided to me that he thought there was a strange man aboard the ship. He said that in his watch he had been sheltering behind the deck-house, as there was a rain-storm, when he saw a tall, thin man, who was not like any of the crew, come up the companion-way, and go along the deck forward, and disappear. He followed cautiously, but when he got to bows found no one, and the hatchways were all closed. He was in a panic of superstitious fear, and I am afraid the panic may spread. To allay it, I shall to-day search entire ship carefully from stem to stern.
Later in the day I got together the whole crew, and told them, as they evidently thought there was some one in the ship, we would search from stem to stern. First mate angry; said it was folly, and to yield to such foolish ideas would demoralize the men; said he would engage to keep them out of trouble with a handspike. I let him take the helm, while the rest began thorough search, all keeping abreast, with lanterns; we left no corner unsearched. As there were only the big wooden boxes, there were no odd corners where a man could hide. Men much relieved when search over, and went back to work cheerfully. First mate scowled, but said nothing.
22 July.- Rough weather last three days, and all hands busy with sails- no time to be frightened. Men seem to have forgotten their dread. Mate cheerful again, and all on good terms. Praised men for work in bad weather. Passed Gibraltar and out through Straits. All well.
24 July.- There seems some doom over this ship. Already a hand short, and entering on the Bay of Biscay with wild weather ahead, and yet last night another man lost- disappeared. Like the first, he came off his watch and was not seen again. Men all in a panic of fear; sent a round robin, asking to have double watch, as they fear to be alone. Mate angry. Fear there will be some trouble, as either he or the men will do some violence.
28 July.- Four days in hell, knocking about in a sort of maelstrom, and the wind a tempest. No sleep for any one. Men all
worn out. Hardly know how to set a watch, since no one fit to go on. Second mate volunteered to steer and watch, and let men snatch a few hours' sleep. Wind abating; seas still terrific, but feel them less, as ship is steadier.
29 July.- Another tragedy. Had single watch to-night, as crew too tired to double. When morning watch came on deck could find no one except steersman. Raised outcry, and all came on deck. Thorough search, but no one found. Are now without second mate, and crew in a panic. Mate and I agreed to go armed henceforth and wait for any sign of cause.
30 July.- Last night. Rejoiced we are nearing England. Weather fine, all sails set. Retired worn out; slept soundly; awaked by mate telling me that both man of watch and steersman missing. Only self and mate and two hands left to work ship.
1 August.- Two days of fog, and not a sail sighted. Had hoped when in the English Channel to be able to signal for help or get in somewhere. Not having power to work sails, have to run before wind. Dare not lower, as could not raise them again. We seem to be drifting to some terrible doom. Mate now more demoralized than either of men. His stronger nature seems to have worked inwardly against himself. Men are beyond fear, working stolidly and patiently, with minds made up to worst. They are Russian, he Roumanian.
2 August, midnight.- Woke up from few minutes' sleep by hearing a cry, seemingly outside my port. Could see nothing in fog. Rushed on deck, and ran against mate. Tells me heard cry and ran, but no sign of man on watch. One more gone. Lord, help us! Mate says we must be past Straits of Dover, as in a moment of fog lifting he saw North Foreland, just as he heard the man cry out. If so we are now off in the North Sea, and only God can guide us in the fog, which seems to move with us; and God seems to have deserted us.
3 August.- At midnight I went to relieve the man at the wheel, and when I got to it found no one there. The wind was steady, and as we ran before it there was no yawing. I dared not leave it, so shouted for the mate. After a few seconds he rushed up on deck in his flannels. He looked wild-eyed and haggard, and I greatly fear his reason has given way. He came close to me and whispered hoarsely, with his mouth to my ear, as though fearing the very air might hear: "It is here; I know it, now. On the watch last night I saw it, like a man, tall and thin, and ghastly pale. It was in the bows, and looking out. I crept behind It, and gave It my knife; but the knife went through it, empty as the air." And as he spoke he took his knife and drove it savagely into space. Then he went on: "But it is here, and I'll find It. It is in the hold, perhaps in one of those boxes. I'll unscrew them one by one and see. You work the helm." And with a warning look and his finger on his lip, he went below. There was springing up a choppy wind, and I could not leave the helm. I saw him come out on deck again with a tool-chest and a lantern, and go down the forward hatchway. He is mad, stark, raving mad, and it's no use my trying to stop him. He can't hurt those big boxes: they are invoiced as "clay," and to pull them about is as harmless a thing as he can do. So here I stay, and mind the helm, and write these notes. I can only trust in God and wait till the fog clears. Then, if I can't steer to any harbour with the wind that is, I shall cut down sails and lie by, and signal for help.
It is nearly all over now. Just as I was beginning to hope that the mate would come out calmer- for I heard him knocking away at something in the hold, and work is good for him- there came up the hatchway a sudden, startled scream, which made my blood run cold, and up on the deck he came as if shot from a gun- a raging madman, with his eyes rolling and his face convulsed with fear. "Save me! save me!" he cried, and then looked round on the blanket of fog. His horror turned to despair, and in a steady voice he said: "You had better come too, captain, before it is too late. He is there. I know the secret now. The sea will save me from Him, and it is all that is left!" Before I could say a word, or move forward to seize him, he sprang on the bulwark and deliberately threw himself into the sea. I suppose I know the secret too, now. It was this madman who had got rid of the men one by one, and now he has followed them himself. God help me! How am I to account for all these horrors when I get to port? When I get to port! Will that ever be?
4 August.- Still fog, which the sunrise cannot pierce. I know there is sunrise because I am a sailor, why else I know not. I dared not go below, I dared not leave the helm; so here all night I stayed, and in the dimness of the night I saw It- Him! God forgive me, but the mate was right to jump overboard. It was better to die like a man; to die like a sailor in blue water no man can object. But I am captain, and I must not leave my ship. But I shall baffle this fiend or monster, for I shall tie my hands to the wheel when my strength begins to fail, and along with them I shall tie that which He- It!- dare not touch; and then, come good wind or foul, I shall save my soul, and my honour as a captain. I am growing weaker, and the night is coming on. If He can look me in the face again, I may not have time to act... If we are wrecked, mayhap this bottle may be found, and those who find it may understand; if not,... well, then all men shall know that I have been true to my trust. God and the Blessed Virgin and the saints help a poor ignorant soul trying to do his duty...
Of course the verdict was an open one. There is no evidence to adduce; and whether or not the man himself committed the murders there is now none to say. The folk here hold almost universally that the captain is simply a hero, and he is to be given a public funeral. Already it is arranged that his body is to be taken with a train of boats up the Esk for a piece and then brought back to Tate Hill Pier and up the abbey steps; for he is to be buried in the churchyard on the cliff. The owners of more than a hundred boats have already given in their names as wishing to follow him to the grave.
No trace has ever been found of the great dog; at which there is much mourning, for, with public opinion in its present state, he would, I believe, be adopted by the town. Tomorrow will see the funeral; and so will end this one more "mystery of the sea."

Mina Murray's Journal.
8 August.- Lucy was very restless all night, and I, too, could not sleep. The storm was fearful, and as it boomed loudly among the chimney-pots, it made me shudder. When a sharp puff came it seemed to be like a distant gun. Strangely enough, Lucy did not wake; but she got up twice and dressed herself. Fortunately, each time I awoke in time, and managed to undress her without waking her, and got her back to bed. It is a very strange thing, this sleep-walking, for as soon as her will is thwarted in any physical way, her intention, if there be any, disappears, and she yields herself almost exactly to the routine of her life.
Early in the morning we both got up and went down to the harbour to see if anything had happened in the night. There were very few people about, and though the sun was bright, and the air clear and fresh, the big, grim-looking waves, that seemed dark themselves because the foam that topped them was like snow, forced themselves in through the narrow mouth of the harbour- like a bullying man going through a crowd. Somehow I felt glad that Jonathan was not on the sea last night, but on land. But, oh, is he on land or sea? Where is he, and how? I am getting fearfully anxious about him. If I only knew what to do, and could do anything!
10 August.- The funeral of the poor sea-captain to-day was most touching. Every boat in the harbour seemed to be there, and the coffin was carried by captains all the way from Tate Hill Pier up to the churchyard. Lucy came with me, and we went early to our old seat, whilst the cortege of boats went up the river to the Viaduct and came down again. We had a lovely view and saw the procession nearly all the way. The poor fellow was laid to rest quite near our seat so that we stood on it when the time came and saw everything. Poor Lucy seemed much upset. She was restless and uneasy all the time, and I cannot but think that her dreaming at night is telling on her. She is quite odd in one thing: she will not admit to me that there is any cause for restlessness; or if there be, she does not understand it herself. There is an additional cause in that poor old Mr. Swales was found dead this morning on our seat, his neck being broken. He had evidently, as the doctor said, fallen back in the seat in some sort of fright, for there was a look of fear and horror on his face that the men said made them shudder. Poor dear old man! Perhaps he had seen Death with his dying eyes! Lucy is so sweet and sensitive that she feels influences more acutely than other people do. Just now she was quite upset by a little thing which I did not much heed, though I am myself very fond of animals. One of the men who came up here often to look for the boats was followed by his dog. The dog is always with him. They are both quiet persons, and I never saw the man angry, nor heard the dog bark. During the service the dog would not come to its master, who was on the seat with us, but kept a few yards off, barking and howling. Its master spoke to it gently, and then harshly, and then angrily; but it would neither come nor cease to make a noise. It was in a sort of fury, with its eyes savage, and all its hairs bristling out like a cat's tail when puss, is, on the war-path. Finally the man, too, got angry, and jumped down and kicked the dog, and then took it by the scruff of the neck and half dragged and half threw it on the tombstone on which the seat is fixed. The moment it touched the stone the poor thing became quiet and fell all into a tremble. It did not try to get away, but crouched down, quivering and cowering, and was in such a pitiable state of terror that I tried, though without effect, to comfort it. Lucy was full of pity, too, but she did not attempt to touch the dog, but looked at it in an agonized sort of way. I greatly fear that she is of too supersensitive a nature to go through the world without trouble. She will be dreaming of this to-night, I am sure. The whole
agglomeration of things- the ship steered into port by a dead man; his attitude, tied to the wheel with a crucifix and beads; the touching funeral; the dog, now furious and now in terror- will all afford material for her dreams.
I think it will be best for her to go to bed tired out physically, so I shall take her for a long walk by the cliffs to Robin Hood's Bay and back. She ought not to have much inclination for sleep-walking then.

_________________
The Flesh of Fallen Angels! Come to me all! Asteroth,

Beelzebub, Asmodeus, Bapholada, Lucifer, Loki, Satan,

Cthulhu, Lilith, Della! Blood, to you all!

I'm the wolf, yeah!
I am the wolf! It's close, it's coming. You have come.
The witness to the end, of time. It's now! I will rise to
her side! I don't need the words!
I'm beyond the words!
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CHAPTER VIII.
MINA MURRAY'S JOURNAL.
Same day, 11 o'clock p.m.- Oh, but I am tired! if it were not that I had made my diary a duty I should not open it tonight. We had a lovely walk. Lucy, after a while, was in gay spirits, owing, I think, to some dear cows who came nosing towards us in a field close to the lighthouse, and frightened the wits out of us. I believe we forgot everything, except, of course, personal fear, and it seemed to wipe there slate clean and give us a fresh start. We had a capital "severe tea" at Robin Hood's Bay in a sweet little old-fashioned inn, with a bow-window right over the seaweed-covered rocks of the strand. I believe we should have shocked the "New Woman" with our appetites. Men are more tolerant, bless them! Then we walked home with some, or rather many, stoppages to rest, and with our hearts full of a constant dread of wild bulls. Lucy was really tired, and we intended to creep off to bed as soon as we could. The young curate came in, however, and Mrs. Westenra asked him to stay for supper. Lucy and I had both a fight for it with the dusty miller; I know it was a hard fight on my part, and I am quite heroic. I think that some day the bishops must get together and see about breeding up a new class of curates, who don't take supper, no matter how they may be pressed to, and who will know when girls are tired. Lucy is asleep and breathing softly. She has more colour in her cheeks than usual, and looks, oh, so sweet. If Mr. Holmwood fell in love with her seeing her only in the drawingroom, I wonder what he would say if he saw her now. Some of the "New Women" writers will some day start an idea that men and women should be allowed to see each other asleep before proposing or accepting. But I suppose the New Woman won't condescend in future to accept; she will do the proposing herself And a nice job she will make of it, too! There's some consolation in that. I am so happy to-night, because dear Lucy seems better. I really believe she has turned the corner, and that we are over her troubles with dreaming. I should be quite happy if I only knew if Jonathan... God bless and keep him.
11 August, 3 a.m.- Diary again. No sleep now, so I may as well write. I am too agitated to sleep. We have had such an adventure, such an agonising experience. I fell asleep as soon as I had closed my diary... Suddenly I became broad awake, and sat up, with a horrible sense of fear upon me, and of some feeling of emptiness around me. The room was dark, so I could not see Lucy's bed; I stole across and felt for her. The bed was empty. I lit a match, and found that she was not in the room. The door was shut, but not locked, as I had left it. I feared to wake her mother, who has been more than usually ill lately, so threw on some clothes and got ready to look for her. As I was leaving the room it struck me that the clothes she wore might give me some clue to her dreaming intention. Dressing-gown would mean house; dress, outside. Dressing-gown and dress were both in their places. "Thank God," I said to myself, "she cannot be far, as she is only in her nightdress." I ran downstairs and looked in the sitting-room. Not there! Then I looked in all the other open rooms of the house, with an ever-growing fear chilling my heart. Finally I came to the hall-door and found it open. It was not wide open, but the catch of the lock had not caught. The people of the house are careful to lock the door every night, so I feared that Lucy must have gone out as she was. There was no time to think of what might happen; a vague, overmastering fear obscured all details. I took a big, heavy shawl and ran out. The clock was striking one as I was in the Crescent, and there was not a soul in sight. I ran along the North Terrace, but could see no sign of the white figure which I expected. At the edge of the West Cliff above the pier I looked across the harbour to the East Cliff, in the hope or fear- I don't know which- of seeing Lucy in our favourite seat. There was a bright full moon, with heavy black, driving clouds, which threw the whole scene into a fleeting diorama of light and shade as they sailed across. For a moment or two I could see nothing, as the shadow of a cloud obscured St. Mary's Church and all around it. Then as the cloud passed I could see the ruins of the abbey coming into view; and as the edge of a narrow band of light as sharp as a sword-cut moved along, the church and the churchyard became gradually visible. Whatever my expectation was, it was not disappointed, for there, on our favourite seat, the silver light of the moon struck a half-reclining figure, snowy white. The coming of the cloud was too quick for me to see much, for shadow shut down on light almost immediately; but it seemed to me as though something dark stood behind the seat where the white figure shone, and bent over it. What it was, whether man or beast, I could not tell; I did not wait to catch another glance, but flew down the steep steps to the pier and along by the fish-market to the bridge, which was the only way to reach the East Cliff. The town seemed as dead, for not a soul did I see; I rejoiced that it was so, for I wanted no witness of poor Lucy's condition. The time and distance seemed endless, and my knees trembled and my breath came laboured as I toiled up the endless steps to the abbey. I must have gone fast, and yet it seemed to me as if my feet were weighted with lead, and as though every joint in my body were rusty. When I got almost to the top I could see the seat and the white figure, for I was now close enough to distinguish it even through the spells of shadow. There was undoubtedly something, long and black, bending over the half-reclining white figure. I called in fright, "Lucy! Lucy!" and something raised a head, and from where I was I could see a white face and red, gleaming eyes. Lucy did not answer, and I ran on to the entrance of the churchyard. As I entered, the church was between me and the seat, and for a minute or so I lost sight of her. When I came in view again the cloud had passed, and the moonlight struck so brilliantly that I could see Lucy half reclining with her head lying over the back of the seat. She was quite alone, and there was not a sign of any living thing about.
When I bent over her I could see that she was still asleep. Her lips were parted, and she was breathing- not softly, as usual with her, but in long, heavy gasps, as though striving to get her lungs full at every breath. As I came close, she put up her hand in her sleep and pulled the collar of her nightdress close around her throat. Whilst she did so there came a little shudder through her, as though she felt the cold. I flung the warm shawl over her, and drew the edges tight round her neck, for I dreaded lest she should get some deadly chill from the night air, unclad as she was I feared to wake her all at once, so, in order to have my hands free that I might help her. I fastened the shawl at her throat with a big safety-pin; but I must have been clumsy in my anxiety and pinched or pricked her with it, for by-and-by, when her breathing became quieter, she put her hand to her throat again and moaned. When I had her carefully wrapped up I put my shoes on her feet, and then began very gently to wake her. At first she did not respond; but gradually she became more and more uneasy in her sleep, moaning and sighing occasionally. At last, as time was passing fast, and, for many other reasons, I wished to get her home at once, I shook her more forcibly, till finally she opened her eyes and awoke. She did not seem surprised to see me, as, of course, she did not realise all at once where she was. Lucy always wakes prettily, and even at such a time, when her body must have been chilled with cold, and her mind somewhat appalled at waking unclad in a churchyard at night, she did not lose her grace. She trembled a little, and clung to me; when I told her to come at once with me home she rose without a word, with the obedience of a child. As we passed along, the gravel hurt my feet, and Lucy noticed me wince. She stopped and wanted to insist upon my taking my shoes; but I would not. However, when we got to the pathway outside the churchyard, where there was a puddle of water remaining from the storm, I daubed my feet with mud, using each foot in turn on the other, so that as we went home no one, in case we should meet any one, should notice my bare feet.
Fortune favoured us, and we got home without meeting a soul. Once we saw a man, who seemed not quite sober, passing along a street in front of us; but we hid in a door till he had disappeared up an opening such as there are here, steep little closes, or "wynds," as they call them in Scotland. My heart beat so loud all the time that sometimes I thought I should faint. I was filled with anxiety about Lucy, not only for her health, lest she should suffer from the exposure, but for her reputation in case the story should get wind. When we got in, and had washed our feet, and had said a prayer of thankfulness together, I tucked her into bed. Before falling asleep she asked- even implored- me not to say a word to any one, even her mother, about her sleep-walking adventure. I hesitated at first to promise; but on thinking of the state of her mother's health, and how the knowledge of such a thing would fret her, and thinking, too, of how such a story might become distorted- may, infallibly would- in case it should leak out, I thought it wiser to do so. I hope I did right. I have locked the door, and the key is tied to my wrist, so perhaps I shall not be again disturbed. Lucy is sleeping soundly; the reflex of the dawn is high and far over the sea...
Same day, noon.- All goes well. Lucy slept till I woke her, and seemed not to have even changed her side. The adventure of the night does not seem to have harmed her; on the contrary, it has benefited her, for she looks better this morning than she has done for weeks. I was sorry to notice that my clumsiness with the safety-pin hurt her. Indeed, it might have been serious, for the skin of her throat was pierced. I must have pinched up a piece of loose skin and have transfixed it, for there are two little red points like pin-pricks, and on the band of her nightdress was a drop of blood. When I apologised and was concerned about it, she laughed and petted me, and said she did not even feel it. Fortunately it cannot leave a scar, as it is so tiny.
Same day, night.- We passed a happy day. The air was clear, and the sun bright, and there was a cool breeze. We took our lunch to Mulgrave Woods, Mrs. Westenra driving by the road and Lucy and I walking by the cliff-path and joining her at the gate. I felt a little sad myself, for I could not but feel how absolutely happy it would have been had Jonathan been with me. But there! I must only be patient. In the evening we strolled in the Casino Terrace, and heard some good music by Spohr and Mackenzie, and went to bed early. Lucy seems more restful than she has been for some time, and fell asleep at once. I shall lock the door and secure the key the same as before, though I do not expect any trouble to-night.
12 August.- My expectations were wrong, for twice during the night I was wakened by Lucy trying to get out. She seemed, even in her sleep, to be a little impatient at finding the door shut, and went back to bed under a sort of protest. I woke with the dawn, and heard the birds chirping outside of the window. Lucy woke, too, and, I was glad to see, was even better than on the previous morning. All her old gaiety of manner seemed to have come back, and she came and snuggled in beside me, and told me all about Arthur. I told her how anxious I was about Jonathan, and then she tried to comfort me. Well, she succeeded somewhat, for, though sympathy can't alter facts, it can help to make them more bearable.
13 August.- Another quiet day, and to bed with the key on my wrist as before. Again I awoke in the night, and found Lucy sitting up in bed, still asleep, pointing to the window. I got up quietly, and pulling aside the blind, looked out. It was brilliant moonlight, and the soft effect of the light over the sea and sky- merged together in one great, silent mystery- was beautiful beyond words. Between me and the moonlight flitted a great bat, coming and going in great, whirling circles. Once or twice it came quite close, but was, I suppose, frightened at seeing me, and flitted away across the harbour towards the abbey. When I came back from the window Lucy had lain down again, and was sleeping peacefully. She did not stir again all night.
14 August.- On the East Cliff, reading and writing all day. Lucy seems to have become as much in love with the spot as I am, and it is hard to get her away from it when it is time to come home for lunch or tea or dinner. This afternoon she made a funny remark. We were coming home for dinner, and had come to the top of the steps up from the West Pier and stopped to look at the view, as we generally do. The setting sun, low down in the sky, was just dropping behind Kettleness; the red light was thrown over on the East Cliff and the old abbey, and seemed to bathe everything in a beautiful rosy glow. We were silent for a while, and suddenly Lucy murmured as if to herself:-
"His red eyes again! They are just the same." It was such an odd expression, coming apropos of nothing, that it quite startled me. I slewed round a little, so as to see Lucy well without seeming to stare at her, and saw that she was in a half-dreamy state, with an odd look on her face that I could not quite make out; so I said nothing, but followed her eyes. She appeared to be looking over at our own seat, whereon was a dark figure seated alone. I was a little startled myself, for it seemed for an instant as if the stranger had great eyes like burning flames; but a second look dispelled the illusion. The red sunlight was shining on the windows of St. Mary's Church behind our seat, and as the sun dipped there was just sufficient change in the refraction and reflection to make it appear as if the light moved. I called Lucy's attention to the peculiar effect, and she became herself with a start, but she looked sad all the same; it may have been that she was thinking of that terrible night up there. We never refer to it; so I said nothing, and we went home to dinner. Lucy had a headache and went early to bed. I saw her asleep, and went out for a little stroll myself, I walked along the cliffs to the westward, and was full of sweet sadness, for I was thinking of Jonathan. When coming home- it was then bright moonlight, so bright that, though the front of our part of the Crescent was in shadow, everything could be well seen- I threw a glance up at our window, and saw Lucy's head leaning out. I thought that perhaps she was looking out for me, so I opened my handkerchief and waved it. She did not notice or make any movement whatever. Just then, the moonlight crept round an angle of the building, and the light fell on the window. There distinctly was Lucy with her head lying up against the side of the window-sill and her eyes shut. She was fast asleep, and by her, seated on the window-sill, was something that looked like a good-sized bird. I was afraid she might get a chill, so I ran upstairs, but as I came into the room she was moving back to her bed, fast asleep, and breathing heavily; she was holding her hand to her throat, as though to protect it from cold.
I did not wake her, but tucked her up warmly; I have taken care that the door is locked and the window securely fastened.
She looks so sweet as she sleeps; but she is paler than is her wont, and there is a drawn, haggard look under her eyes which I do not like. I fear she is fretting about something. I wish I could find out what it is.
15 August.- Rose later than usual. Lucy was languid and tired, and slept on after we had been called. We had a happy surprise at breakfast. Arthur's father is better, and wants the marriage to come off soon. Lucy is full of quiet joy, and her mother is glad and sorry at once. Later on in the day she told me the cause. She is grieved to lose Lucy as her very own, but she is rejoiced that she is soon to have some one to protect her. Poor dear, sweet lady! She confided to me that she has got her death-warrant. She has not told Lucy, and made me promise secrecy; her doctor told her that within a few months, at most, she must die, for her heart is weakening. At any time, even now, a sudden shock would be almost sure to kill her. Ah, we were wise to keep from her the affair of the dreadful night of Lucy's sleep-walking.
17 August.- No diary for two whole days. I have not had the heart to write. Some sort of shadowy pall seems to be coming over our happiness. No news from Jonathan, and Lucy seems to be growing weaker, whilst her mother's hours are numbering to a close. I do not understand Lucy's fading away as she is doing. She eats well and sleeps well, and enjoys the fresh air; but all the time the roses in her cheeks are fading, and she gets weaker and more languid day by day; at night I hear her gasping as if for air. I keep the key of our door always fastened to my wrist at night, but she gets up and walks about the room, and sits at the open window. Last night I found her leaning out when I woke up, and when I tried to wake her I could not; she was in a faint. When I managed to restore her she was as weak as water, and cried silently between long, painful struggles for breath. When I asked her how she came to be at the window she shook her head and turned away. I trust her feeling ill may not be from that unlucky prick of the safety pin. I looked at her throat just now as she lay asleep, and the tiny wounds seem not to have healed. They are still open, and, if anything, larger than before, and the edges of them are faintly white. They are like little white dots with red centres. Unless they heal within a day or two, I shall insist on the doctor seeing about them.

Letter, Samuel F. Billington & Son, Solicitors, Whitby, to
Messrs. Carter, Paterson & Co., London.
"17 August.
"Dear Sirs,-
"Herewith please receive invoice of goods sent by Great Northern Railway. Same are to be delivered at Carfax, near Purfleet, immediately on receipt at goods station King's Cross. The house is at present empty, but enclosed please find keys, all of which are labelled.
"You will please deposit the boxes, fifty in number, which form the consignment, in the partially ruined building forming part of the house and marked 'A' on rough diagram enclosed. Your agent will easily recognise the locality, as it is the ancient chapel of the mansion. The goods leave by the train at 9:30 to-night, and will be due at King's Cross at 4:30 to-morrow afternoon. As our client wishes the delivery made as soon as possible, we shall be obliged by your having teams ready at King's Cross at the time named and forthwith conveying the goods to destination. In order to obviate any delays possible through any routine requirements as to payment in your departments, we enclose cheque herewith for ten pounds (L10), receipt of which please acknowledge. Should the charge be less than this amount, you can return balance; if greater, we shall at once send cheque for difference on hearing from you. You are to leave the keys on coming away in the main hall of the house, where the proprietor may get them on his entering the house by means of his duplicate key.
"Pray do not take us as exceeding the bounds of business courtesy in pressing you in all ways to use the utmost expedition.
"We are, dear Sirs,
"Faithfully yours,
"Samuel F. Billington & Son."

Letter, Messrs. Carter, Paterson & Co., London, to Messrs.
Billington & Son, Whitby.
"21 August.
"Dear Sirs,-
"We beg to acknowledge 10 pounds (L10) received and to return cheque L1 17s. 9d., amount of overplus, as shown in receipted account herewith. Goods are delivered in exact accordance with instructions, and keys left in parcel in main hall, as directed.
"We are, dear Sirs,
"Yours respectfully,
"Pro Carter, Paterson & Co."

18 August.- I am happy to-day, and write sitting on the seat in the churchyard. Lucy is ever so much better. Last night she slept well all night, and did not disturb me once. The roses seem coming back already to her cheeks, though she is still sadly pale and wan-looking. If she were in any way anaemic I could understand it, but she is not. She is in gay spirits and full of life and cheerfulness. All the morbid reticence seems to have passed from her, and she has just reminded me, as if I needed any reminding, of that night, and that it was here, on this very seat, I found her asleep. As he told me she tapped playfully with the heel of her boot on the stone slab and said:-
"My poor little feet didn't make much noise then! I daresay poor old Mr. Swales would have told me that it was because I didn't want to wake up Geordie." As she was in such a communicative humour, I asked her if she had dreamed at all that night. Before she answered, that sweet, puckered look came into her forehead, which Arthur- I call him Arthur from her habit- says he loves; and, indeed, I don't wonder that he does. Then she went on in a half-dreaming kind of way, as if trying to recall it to herself:-
"I didn't quite dream; but it all seemed to be real. I only wanted to be here in this spot- I don't know why, for I was afraid of something- I don't know what. I remember though I suppose I was asleep, passing through the streets and over the bridge. A fish leaped as I went by, and I leaned over to look at it, and I heard a lot of dogs howling- the whole town seemed as if it must be full of dogs all howling at once- as I went up the steps. Then I had a vague memory of something long and dark with red eyes, just as we saw in the sunset, and something very sweet and very bitter all around me at once; and then I seemed sinking into deep green water, and there was a singing in my ears, as I have heard there is to drowning men; and then everything seemed passing away from me; my soul seemed to go out from my body and float about the air. I seem to remember that once the West Lighthouse was right under me, and then there was a sort of agonising feeling, as if I were in an earthquake, and I came back and found you shaking my body. I saw you do it before I felt you."
Then she began to laugh. It seemed a little uncanny to me, and I listened to her breathlessly. I did not quite like it, and thought it better not to keep her mind on the subject, so we drifted on to other subjects, and Lucy was like her old self again. When we got home the fresh breeze had braced her up, and her pale cheeks were really more rosy. Her mother rejoiced when she saw her, and we all spent a very happy evening together.
19 August.- Joy, joy, joy! although not all joy. At last, news of Jonathan. The dear fellow has been ill; that is why he did not write. I am not afraid to think it or say it, now that I know. Mr. Hawkins sent me on the letter, and wrote himself, oh, so kindly. I am to leave in the morning and go over to Jonathan, and to help to nurse him if necessary, and to bring him home. Mr. Hawkins says it would not be a bad thing if we were to be married out there. I have cried over the good Sister's letter till I can feel it wet against my bosom, where it lies. It is of Jonathan, and must be next my heart, for he is in my heart. My journey is all mapped out, and my luggage ready. I am only taking one change of dress; Lucy All bring my trunk to London and keep it till I send for it, for it may be that... I must write no more; I must keep it to say to Jonathan, my husband. The letter that he has seen and touched must comfort me till we meet.

Letter, Sister Agatha, Hospital of SL Joseph and Ste. Mary,
Buda-Pesth, to Miss Wilhelmina Murray.
"12 August.
"Dear Madam,-
"I write by desire of Mr. Jonathan Harker, who is himself not strong enough to write, though progressing well, thanks to God and St. Joseph and Ste. Mary. He has been under our care for nearly six weeks, suffering from a violent brain fever. He wishes me to convey his love, and to say that by this post I write for him to Mr. Peter Hawkins, Exeter, to say, with his dutiful respects, that he is sorry for his delay, and that all of his work is completed. He will require some few weeks' rest in our sanatorium in the hills, but will then return. He wishes me to say that he has not sufficient money with him, and that he would like to pay for his staying here, so that others who need shall not be wanting for help. "Believe me,
"Yours, with sympathy and all blessings,
"Sister Agatha.
"P.S.- My patient being asleep, I open this to let you know something more. He has told me all about you, and that you are sortly to be his wife. All blessings to you both! He has had some fearful shock- so says our doctor- and in his delirium his ravings have been dreadful; of wolves and poison and blood; of ghosts and demons; and I fear to say of what. Be careful with him always that there may be nothing to excite him of this kind for a long time to come; the traces of such an illness as his do not lightly die away. We should have written long ago, but we knew nothing of his friends, and there was on him nothing that any one could understand. He came in the train from Klausenburg, and the guard was told by the station-master there that he rushed into the station shouting for a ticket for home. Seeing from his violent demeanour that he was English, they gave him a ticket for the furthest station on the way thither that the train reached.
"Be assured that he is well cared for. He has won all hearts by his sweetness and gentleness. He is truly getting on well, and I have no doubt will in a few weeks be all himself But be careful of him for safety's sake. There are, I pray God and St. Joseph and Ste. Mary, many, many, happy years for you both."

Dr. Seward's Diary.
19 August.- Strange and sudden change in Renfield last night. About eight o'clock he began to get excited and to sniff about as a dog does when setting. The attendant was struck by his manner, and knowing my interest in him, encouraged him to talk. He is usually respectful to the attendant, and at times servile; but to-night, the man tells me, he was quite haughty. Would not condescend to talk with him at all. All he would say was:-
"I don't want to talk to you: you don't count now; the Master is at hand."
The attendant thinks it is some sudden form of religious mania which has seized him. If so, we must look out for squalls, for a strong man with homicidal and religious mania at once might be dangerous. The combination is a dreadful one. At nine o'clock I visited him myself. His attitude to me was the same as that to the attendant; in his sublime self-feeling the difference between myself and attendant seemed to him as nothing. It looks like religious mania, and he will soon think that he himself is God. These infinitesimal distinctions between man and man are too paltry for an Omnipotent Being. How these madmen give themselves away! The real God taketh heed lest a sparrow fall; but the God created from human vanity sees no difference between an eagle and a sparrow. Oh, if men only knew!
For half an hour or more Renfield kept getting excited in greater and greater degree. I did not pretend to be watching him, but I kept strict observation all the same. All at once that shifty look came into his eyes which we always see when a madman has seized an idea, and with it the shifty movement of the head and back which asylum attendants come to know so well. He became quite quiet, and went and sat on the edge of his bed resignedly, and looked into space with lack-lustre eyes. I thought I would find out if his apathy were real or only assumed, and tried to lead him to talk of his pets, a theme which had never failed to excite his attention. At first he made no reply, but at length said testily:-
"Bother them all! I don't care a pin about them."
"What?" I said. "You don't mean to tell me you don't care about spiders?" (Spiders at present are his hobby, and the note-book is filling up with columns of small figures.) To this he answered enigmatically:-
"The bride-maidens rejoice the eyes that wait the coming of the bride; but when the bride draweth nigh, then the maidens shine not to the eyes that are filled."
He would not explain himself, but remained obstinately seated on his bed all the time I remained with him.
I am weary to-night and low in spirits. I cannot but think of Lucy, and how different things might have been. If I don't sleep at once, chloral, the modern Morpheus- C(2) HCL(3)O: H(2)O! I must be careful not to let it grow into a habit. No, I shall take none ton-night! I have thought of Lucy, and I shall not dishonour her by mixing the two. If need be, to-night shall be sleepless.
Later.- Glad I made the resolution; gladder that I kept to it. I had lain tossing about, and had heard the clock strike only twice, when the night-watchman came to me, sent up from the ward, to say that Renfield had escaped. I threw on my clothes and ran down at once; my patient is too dangerous a person to be roaming about. Those ideas of his might work out dangerously with strangers. The attendant was waiting for me. He said he had seen him not ten minutes before, seemingly asleep in his bed, when he had looked through the observation-trap in the door. His attention was called by the sound of the window being wrenched out. He ran back and saw his feet disappear through the window, and had at once sent up for me. He was only in his night-gear, and cannot be far off. The attendant thought it would be more useful to watch where he should go than to follow him, as he might lose sight of him whilst getting out of the building by the door. He is a bulky man, and couldn't get through the window. I am thin, so, with his aid, I got out, but feet foremost, and, as we were only a few feet above ground, landed unhurt. The attendant told me the patient had gone to the left, and had taken a straight line, so I ran as quickly as I could. As I got through the belt of trees I saw a white figure scale the high wall which separates our grounds from those of the deserted house.
I ran back at once, told the watchman to get three or four men immediately and follow me into the grounds of Carfax, in case our friend might be dangerous. I got a ladder myself, and crossing the wall, dropped down on the other side. I could see Renfield's figure just disappearing behind the angle of the house, so I ran after him. On the far side of the house I found him pressed close against the old iron-bound oak door of the chapel. He was talking, apparently to some one, but I was afraid to go near enough to hear what he was saying, lest I might frighten him, and he should run off. Chasing an errant swarm of bees is nothing to following a naked lunatic, when the fit of escaping is upon him! After a few minutes, however, I could see that he did not take note of anything around him, and so ventured to draw nearer to him- the more so as my men had now crossed the wall and were closing him in. I heard him say:-
"I am here to do Your bidding, Master. I am Your slave, and You will reward me, for I shall be faithful. I have worshipped You long and afar off. Now that You are near, I await Your commands, and You will not pass me by, will You, dear Master, in Your distribution of good things?"
He is a selfish old beggar anyhow. He thinks of the loaves and fishes even when he believes he is in a Real Presence. His manias make a startling combination. When we closed in on him he fought like a tiger. He is immensely strong, and he was more like a wild beast than a man. I never saw a lunatic in such a paroxysm of rage before; and I hope I shall not again. It is a mercy that we have found out his strength and his danger in good time. With strength, and determination like his, he might have done wild work before he was caged. He is safe now at any rate. Jack Sheppard himself couldn't get free from the strait-waistcoat that keeps him restrained, and he's chained to the wall in the padded room. His cries are at times awful, but the silences that follow are more deadly still, for he means murder in every turn and movement.
Just now he spoke coherent words for the first time:-
"I shall be patient, Master. It is coming- coming- coming!"
So I took the hint, and came too. I was too excited to sleep, but
this diary has quieted me, and I feel I shall get some sleep to-night.
CHAPTER IX.
LETTERS, ETC.- continued.
Letter, Mina Harker to Lucy Westenra.
"Buda-Pesth, 24 August.
"My dearest Lucy,-
"I know you will be anxious to hear all that has happened since we parted at the railway station at Whitby. Well, my dear, I got to Hull all right, and caught the boat to Homburg, and then the train on here. I feel that I can hardly recall anything of the journey, except that I knew I was coming to Jonathan, and, that as I should have to do some nursing, I had better get all the sleep I could... I found my dear one, oh, so thin and pale and weak-looking. All the resolution has gone out of his dear eyes, and that quiet dignity which I told you was in his face has vanished. He is only a wreck of himself, and he does not remember anything that has happened to him for a long time past. At least, he wants me to believe so, and I shall never ask. He has had some terrible shock, and I fear it might tax his poor brain if he were to try to recall it. Sister Agatha, who is a good creature and a born nurse, tells me that he raved of dreadful things whilst he was off his head. I wanted her to tell me what they were; but she would only cross herself, and say she would never tell; that the ravings of the sick were the secrets of God, and that if a nurse through her vocation should hear them, she should respect her trust. She is a sweet, good soul, and the next day, when she saw I was troubled, she opened up the subject again, and after saying that she could never mention what my poor dear raved about, added: 'I can tell you this much, my dear: that it was not about anything which he has done wrong himself, and you, as his wife to be, have no cause to be concerned. He has not forgotten you or what he owes to you. His fear was of great and terrible things, which no mortal can treat of.' I do believe the dear soul thought I might be jealous lest my poor dear should have fallen in love with any other girl. The idea of my being jealous about Jonathan! And yet, my dear, let me whisper, I felt a thrill of joy through me when I knew that no other woman was a cause of trouble. I am now sitting by his bedside, where I can see his face while he sleeps. He is waking!...
"When he woke he asked me for his coat, as he wanted to get something from the pocket; I asked Sister Agatha, and she brought all his things. I saw that amongst them was his note-book, and was going to ask him to let me look at it- for I knew then that I might find some clue to his trouble- but I suppose he must have seen my wish in my eyes, for he sent me over to the window, saying he wanted to be quite alone for a moment. Then he called me back, and when I came he had his hand over the note-book, and he said to me very solemnly:-
"'Wilhelmina'- I knew then that he was in deadly earnest, for he has never called me by that name since he asked me to marry him- 'you know, dear, my ideas of the trust between husband and wife: there should be no secret, no concealment. I have had a great shock, and when I try to think of what it is I feel my head spin round, and I do not know if it was all real or the dreaming of a madman. You know I have had brain fever, and that is to be mad. The secret is here, and I do not want to know it. I want to take up my life here, with our marriage.' For, my dear, we had decided to be married as soon as the formalities are complete. 'Are you willing, Wilhelmina, to share my ignorance? Here is the book. Take it and keep it, read it if you will, but never let me know; unless, indeed, some solemn duty should come upon me to go back to the bitter hours, asleep or awake, sane or mad, recorded here.' He fell back exhausted, and I put the book under his pillow, and kissed him I have asked Sister Agatha to beg the Superior to let our wedding be this afternoon, and am waiting her reply...
"She has come and told me that the chaplain of the English mission church has been sent for. We are to be married in an hour, or as soon after as Jonathan awakes...
"Lucy, the time has come and gone. I feel very solemn, but very, very happy. Jonathan woke a little after the hour, and all was ready, and he sat up in bed, propped up with pillows. He answered his 'I will' firmly and strongly. I could hardly speak; my heart was so full that even those words seemed to choke me. The dear sisters were so kind. Please God, I shall never, never forget them, nor the grave and sweet responsibilities I have taken upon me. I must tell you of my wedding present. When the chaplain and the sisters had left me alone with my husband- oh, Lucy, it is the first time I have written the words 'my husband'- left me alone with my husband, I took the book from under his pillow, and wrapped it up in white paper, and tied it with a little bit of pale blue ribbon which was round my neck, and sealed it over the knot with sealing-wax, and for my seal I used my wedding ring. Then I kissed it and showed it to my husband, and told him that I would keep it so, and then it would be an outward and visible sign for us all our lives that we trusted each other; that I would never open it unless it were for his own dear sake or for the sake of some stern duty. Then he took my hand in his, and oh, Lucy, it was the first time he took his wife's hand, and said that it was the dearest thing in all the wide world, and that he would go through all the past again to win it, if need be. The poor dear meant to have said a part of the past; but he cannot think of time yet, and I shall not wonder if at first he mixes up not only the month, but the year.
"Well, my dear, what could I say? I could only tell him that I was the happiest woman in all the wide world, and that I had nothing to give him except myself, my life, and my trust, and that with these went my love and duty for all the days of my life. And, my dear, when he kissed me, and drew me to him with his poor weak hands, it was like a very solemn pledge between us...
"Lucy dear, do you know why I tell you all this? It is not only because it is all sweet to me, but because you have been, and are, very dear to me. It was my privilege to be your friend and guide when you came from the schoolroom to prepare for the world of life. I want you to see now, and with the eyes of a very happy wife, whither duty has led me; so that in your own married life you too may be all happy as I am. My dear, please Almighty God, your life may be all it promises: a long day of sunshine, with no harsh kind, no forgetting duty, no distrust. I must not wish you no pain, for that can never be; but I do hope you will be always as happy as I am now Good-bye, my dear. I shall post this at once, and, perhaps, write you very soon again. I must stop, for Jonathan is waking- I must attend to my husband!
"Your ever-loving
"Mina Harker."

Letter, Lucy Westenra to Mina Harker.
"Whitby, 30 August.
"My dearest Mina,-
"Oceans of love and millions of kisses, and may you soon be in your own home with your husband. I wish you could be coming home soon enough to stay with us here. The strong air would soon restore Jonathan; it has quite restored me. I have an appetite like a cormorant, am full of life, and sleep well. You will be glad to know that I have quite given up walking in my sleep. I think I have not stirred out of my bed for a week, that is when I once got into it at night. Arthur says I am getting fat. By the way, I forgot to tell you that Arthur is here. We have such walks and drives, and rides, and rowing, and tennis, and fishing together; and I love him more than ever. He tells me that he loves me more, but I doubt that, for at first he told me that he couldn't love me more than he did then. But this is nonsense. There he is, calling to me. So no more just at present from your loving
"LUCY.
"P.S.- Mother sends her love. She seems better, poor dear.
"P.P.S.- We are to be married on 28 September."

Dr. Seward's Diary.
20 August.- The case of Renfield grows even more interesting. He has now so far quieted that there are spells or cessation from his passion. For the first week after his attack he was perpetually violent. Then one night, just as the moon rose, he grew quiet, and kept murmuring to himself- "Now I can wait; now I can wait." The attendant came to tell me, so I ran down at once to have a look at him. He was still in the strait-waistcoat and in the padded room, but the suffused look had gone from his face, and his eyes had something of their old pleading- I might almost say, "cringing"- softness, I was satisfied with his present condition, and directed him to be relieved. The attendants hesitated, but finally carried out my wishes without protest. It was a strange thing that the patient had humour enough to see their distrust, for, coming close to me, he said in a whisper, all the while looking furtively at them:-
"They think I could hurt you! Fancy me hurting you! The fools!"
It was soothing, somehow, to the feelings to find myself dissociated even in the mind of this poor madman from the others; but all the same I do not follow his thought. Am I to take it that I have anything in common with him, so that we are, as it were, to stand together; or has he to gain from me some good so stupendous that my well-being is needful to him? I must find out later on. To-night he will not speak. Even the offer of a kitten or even a full-grown cat will not tempt him. He will only say: "I don't take any stock in cats. I have more to think of now, and I can wait; I can wait."
After a while I left him. The attendant tells me that he was quiet until just before dawn, and that then he began to get uneasy, and at length violent, until at last he fell into a paroxysm which exhausted him so that he swooned into a sort of coma.
...Three nights has the same thing happened- violent all day then quiet from moonrise to sunrise. I wish I could get some clue to the cause. It would almost seem as if there was some influence which came and went. Happy thought! We shall to-night play sane wits against mad ones. He escaped before without our help; to-night he shall escape with it. We shall give him a chance, and have the men ready to follow in case they are required...
23 August.- "The unexpected always happens." How well Disraeli knew life. Our bird when he found the cage open would not fly, so all our subtle arrangements were for nought. At any rate, we have proved one thing; that the spells of quietness last a reasonable time. We shall in future be able to ease his bonds for a few hours each day. I have given orders to the night attendant merely to shut him in the padded room, when once he is quiet, until an hour before sunrise. The poor soul's body will enjoy the relief even if his mind cannot appreciate it. Hark! The unexpected again! I am called; the patient has once more escaped.
Later.- Another night adventure. Renfield artfully waited until the attendant was entering the room to inspect. Then he dashed out past him and new down the passage. I sent word for the attendants to follow. Again he went into the grounds of the deserted house, and we found him in the same place, pressed against the old chapel door. When he saw me he became furious, and had not the attendants seized him in time, he would have tried to kill me. As we were holding him a strange thing happened. He suddenly redoubled his efforts, and then as suddenly grew calm. I looked round instinctively, but could see nothing. Then I caught the patient's eye and followed it, but could trace nothing as it looked into the moonlit sky except a big bat, which was flapping its silent and ghostly way to the West. Bats usually wheel and flit about, but this one seemed to go straight on, as if it knew where it was bound for or had some intention of its own. The patient grew calmer every instant, and presently said:
"You needn't tie me; I shall go quietly!" Without trouble we came back to the house. I feel there is something ominous in his calm, and shall not forget this night...

Lucy Westenra's Diary.
Hillingham, 24 August.- I must imitate Mina, and keep writing things down. Then we can have long talks when we do meet. I wonder when it will be. I wish she were with me again, for I feel so unhappy. Last night I seemed to be dreaming again just as I was at Whitby. Perhaps it is the change of air, or getting home again. It is all dark and horrid to me, for I can remember nothing; but I am full of vague fear, and I feel so weak and worn out. When Arthur came to lunch he looked quite grieved when he saw me, and I hadn't the spirit to try to be cheerful. I wonder if I could sleep in mother's room to-night. I shall make an excuse and try.
25 August.- Another bad night. Mother did not seem to take to my proposal. She seems not too well herself, and doubtless she fears to worry me. I tried to keep awake, and succeeded for a while; but when the clock struck twelve it waked me from a doze, so I must have been falling asleep. There was a sort of scratching or flapping at the window, but I did not mind it, and as I remember no more, I suppose I must then have fallen asleep. More bad dreams. I wish I could remember them. This morning I am horribly weak. My face is ghastly pale, and my throat pains me. It must be something wrong with my lungs, for I don't seem ever to get air enough. I shall try to cheer up when Arthur comes, or else I know he will be miserable to see me so.
Letter, Arthur Holmwood to Dr. Seward.
"Albemarle Hotel, 31 August.
"My dear Jack,-
"I want you to do me a favour. Lucy is ill; that is, she has no special disease, but she looks awful, and is getting worse every day. I have asked her if there is any cause; I do not dare to ask her mother, for to disturb the poor lady's mind about her daughter in her present state of health would be fatal. Mrs. Westenra has confided to me that her doom is spoken- disease of the heart- though poor Lucy does not know it yet. I am sure that there is something preying on my dear girl's mind: I am almost distracted when I think of her; to look at her gives me a pang. I told her I should ask you to see her, and though she demurred at first- I know why, old fellow- she finally consented. It will be a painful task for you, I know, old friend, but it is for her sake, and I must not hesitate to ask, or you to act. You are to come to lunch at Hillingham to-morrow, two o'clock, so as not to arose any suspicion in Mrs. Westenra, and after lunch Lucy will take an opportunity of being alone with you. I shall come in for tea, and we can go away together; I am filled with anxiety, and want to consult with you alone as soon as I can after you have seen her. Do not fail!
"Arthur."

Telegram, Arthur Holmwood to Seward.
"1 September.
"Am summoned to see my father, who is worse. Am writing. Write me fully by to-night's post to Ring. Wire me if necessary."

Letter from Dr. Seward to Arthur Holmwood.
"2 September.
"My dear old fellow,-
"With regard to Miss Westenra's health I hasten to let you know at once that in my opinion there is not any functional disturbance or any malady that I know of. At the same time, I am not by any means satisfied with her appearance; she is woefully different from what she was when I saw her last. Of course you must bear in mind that I did not have full opportunity of examination such as I should wish; our very friendship makes a little difficulty which not even medical science or custom can bridge over. I had better tell you exactly what happened, leaving you to draw, in a measure, your own conclusions. I shall then say what I have done and propose doing.
"I found Miss Westenra in seemingly gay spirits. Her mother was present, and in a few seconds I made up my mind that she was trying all she knew to mislead her mother and prevent her from being anxious. I have no doubt she guesses, if she does not know, what need of caution there is. We lunched alone, and as we all exerted ourselves to be cheerful, we got, as some kind of reward for our labors, some real cheerfulness amongst us. Then Mrs. Westenra went to lie down, and Lucy was left with me. We went into her boudoir, and till we got there her gaiety remained, for the servants were coming and going. As soon as the door was closed, however, the mask fell from her face, and she sank down into a chair with a great sigh, and hid her eyes with her hand. When I saw that her high spirits had failed, I at once took advantage of her reaction to make a diagnosis. She said to me very sweetly:
"'I cannot tell you how I loathe talking about myself.' I reminded her that a doctor's confidence was sacred, but that you were grievously anxious about her. She caught on to my meaning at once, and settled that matter in a word. 'Tell Arthur everything you choose. I do not care for myself, but all for him!' So I am quite free.
"I could easily see that she is somewhat bloodless, but I could not see the usual anaemic signs, and by a chance I was actually able to test the quality of her blood, for in opening a window which was stiff a cord gave way, and she cut her hand slightly with broken glass. It was a slight matter in itself, but it gave me an evident chance, and I secured a few drops of the blood and have analyzed them. The qualitative analysis gives a quite normal condition, and shows, I should infer, in itself a vigorous state of health. In other physical matters I was quite satisfied that there is no need for anxiety; but as there must be a cause somewhere, I have come to the conclusion that it must be something mental. She complains of difficulty in breathing satisfactorily at times, and of heavy, lethargic sleep, with dreams that frighten her, but regarding which she can remember nothing. She says that as a child she used to walk in her sleep, and that when in Whitby the habit came back, and that once she walked out in the night and went to the East Cliff, where Miss Murray found her; but she assures me that of late the habit has not returned. I am in doubt, and so have done the best thing I know of, I have written to my old friend and master, Professor Van Helsing, of Amsterdam, who knows as much about obscure diseases as any one in the world. I have asked him to come over, and as you told me that all things were to be at your charge, I have mentioned to him who you are and your relations to Miss Westenra. This, my dear fellow, is in obedience to your wishes, for I am only too proud and happy to do anything I can for her. Van Helsing would, I know, do anything for me for a personal reason. So, no matter on what ground he comes, we must accept his wishes. He is a seemingly arbitrary man, but this is because he knows what he is talking about better than any one else. He is a philosopher and a metaphysician, and one of the most advanced scientists of his day; and he has, I believe, an absolutely open mind. This, with an iron nerve, a temper of the ice-brook, an indomitable resolution, self-command and toleration exalted from virtues to blessings, and the kindliest and truest heart that beats- these form his equipment for the noble work that he is doing for mankind- work both in theory and practice, for his views are as wide as his all-embracing sympathy. I tell you these facts that you may know why I have such confidence in him. I have asked him to come at once. I shall see Miss Westenra to-morrow again. She is to meet me at the Stores, so that I may not alarm her mother by too early a repetition of my call.
"Yours always,
"John Seward."

Letter, Abraham Van Helsing, M.D., D. Ph., D. Lit., etc., etc., to Dr. Seward.
"2 September.
"My good Friend,-
"When I have received your letter I am already coming to you. By good fortune I can leave just at once, without wrong to any of those who have trusted me. Were fortune other, then it were bad for those who have trusted, for I come to my friend when he call me to aid those he holds dear. Tell your friend that when that time you suck from my wound so swiftly the poison of the gangrene from that knife that our other friend, too nervous, let slip, you did more for him when he wants my aids and you call for them than all his great fortune could do. But it is pleasure added to do for him, your friend; it is to you that I come. Have then rooms for me at the Great Eastern Hotel, so that I may be near to hand, and please it so arrange that we may see the young lady not too late on to-morrow, for it is likely that I may have to return here that night. But if need be I shall come again in three days, and stay longer if it must. Till then good-bye, my friend John.
"Van Helsing."

Letter, Dr. Seward to Hon. Arthur Holmwood.
"3 September.
"My dear Art,-
"Van Helsing has come and gone. He came on with me to Hillingham, and found that, by Lucy's discretion, her mother was lunching out, so that we were alone with her. Van Helsing made a very careful examination of the patient. He is to report to me, and I shall advise you, for of course I was not present all the time. He is, I fear, much concerned, but says he must think. When I told him of our friendship and how you trust to me in the matter, he said: 'You must tell him all you think. Tell him what I think, if you can guess it, if you will. Nay, I am not jesting. This is no jest, but life and death, perhaps more.' I asked what he meant by that, for he was very serious. This was when we had come back to town, and he was having a cup of tea before starting on his return to Amsterdam. He would not give me any further clue. You must not be angry with me, Art, because his very reticence means that all his brains are working for her good. He will speak plainly enough when the time comes, be sure. So I told him I would simply write an account of our visit, just as if I were doing a descriptive special article for The Dally Telegraph. He seemed not to notice, but remarked that the smuts in London were not quite so bad as they used to be when he was a student here. I am to get his report tomorrow if he can possible make it. In any case I am to have a letter.
"Well, as to the visit. Lucy was more cheerful than on the day I first saw her, and certainly looked better. She had lost something of the ghastly look that so upset you, and her breathing was normal. She was very sweet to the professor (as she always is), and tried to make him feel at ease; though I could see that the poor girl was making a hard struggle for it. I believe Van Helsing saw it, too, for I saw the quick look under his bushy brows that I knew of old. Then he began to chat of all things except ourselves and diseases and with such an infinite geniality that I could see poor Lucy's pretense of animation merge into reality. Then, without any seeming change, he brought the conversation gently round to his visit, and suavely said:-
"'My dear young miss, I have the so great pleasure because you are much beloved. That is much, my dear, even were there that which I do not see. They told me you were down in the spirit, and that you were of a ghastly pale. To them I say: "Pouf!"' And he snapped his fingers at me and went on: 'But you and I shall show them how wrong they are. How can he'- and he pointed at me with the same look and gesture as that with which once he pointed me out to his class, on, or rather after, a particular occasion which he never fails to remind me of- 'know anything of a young ladies? He has his madams to play with, and to bring them back to happiness and to those that love them. It is much to do, and, oh, but there are rewards, in that we can bestow such happiness. But the young ladies! He has no wife nor daughter, and the young do not tell themselves to the young, but to the old, like me, who have known so many sorrows and the causes of them. So, my dear, we will send him away to smoke the cigarette in the garden, whiles you and I have little talk all to ourselves.' I took the hint, and strolled about, and presently the professor came to the window and called me in. He looked grave, but said: 'I have made careful examination, but there is no functional cause. With you I agree that there has been much blood lost; it has been, but is not. But the conditions of her are in no way anemic. I have asked her to send me her maid, that I may ask just one or two question, that so I may not chance to miss nothing. I know well what she will say. And yet there is cause; there is always cause for everything. I must go back home and think. You must send to me the telegram every day; and if there be cause I shall come again. The disease- for not to be all well is a disease- interest me, and the sweet young dear, she interest me too. She charm me, and for her, if not for you or disease, I come.'
"As I tell you, he would not say a word more, even when we were alone. And so now, Art, you know all I know. I shall keep stern watch. I trust your poor father is rallying. It must be a terrible thing to you, my dear old fellow, to be placed in such a position between two people who are both so dear to you. I know your idea of duty to your father, and you are right to stick to it; but, if need be, I shall send you word to come at once to Lucy; so do not be over-anxious unless you hear from me."

Dr. Seward's Diary.
4 September.- Zoophagous patient still keeps up our interest in him. He had only one outburst and that was yesterday at an unusual time. Just before the stroke of noon he began to grow restless. The attendant knew the symptoms, and at once summoned aid. Fortunately the men came at a run, and were just in time, for at the stroke of noon he became so violent that it took all their strength to hold him. In about five minutes, however, he began to get more and more quiet, and finally sank into a sort of melancholy, in which state he has remained up to now. The attendant tells me that his screams whilst in the paroxysm were really appalling; I found my hands full when I got in, attending to some of the other patients who were frightened by him. Indeed, I can quite understand the effect, for the sounds disturbed even me, though I was some distance away. It is now after the dinner-hour of the asylum, and as yet my patient sits in a corner brooding, with a dull, sullen, woe-be-gone look in his face, which seems rather to indicate than to show something directly. I cannot quite understand it.
Later.- Another change in my patient. At five o'clock I looked in on him, and found him seemingly as happy and contented as he used to be. He was catching flies and eating them, and was keeping note of his capture by making nailmarks on the edge of the door between the ridges of padding. When he saw me, he came over and apologized for his bad conduct, and asked me in a very humble, cringing way to be led back to his own room and to have his note-book again. I thought it well to humor him; so he is back in his room, with the window open. He has the sugar of his tea spread out on the window-sill, and is reaping quite a harvest of flies. He is not now eating them, but putting them into a box, as of old, and is already examining the corners of his room to find a spider. I tried to get him to talk about the past few days, for any clue to his thoughts would be of immense help to me; but he would not rise. For a moment or two he looked very sad, and said in a sort of far-away voice, as though saying it rather to himself than to me:-
"All over! all over! He has deserted me. No hope for me now unless I do it for myself!" Then suddenly turning to me in a resolute way, he said: "Doctor, won't you be very good to me and let me have a little more sugar? I think it would be good for me."
"And the flies?" I said.
"Yes! The flies like it, too, and I like the flies; therefore I like it." And there are people who know so little as to think that madmen do not argue. I procured him a double supply, and left him as happy a man as, I suppose, any in the world. I wish I could fathom his mind.
Midnight.- Another change in him. I had been to see Miss Westenra, whom I found much better, and had just returned, and was standing at our own gate looking at the sunset, when once more I heard him yelling. As his room is on this side of the house, I could hear it better than in the morning. It was a shock to me to turn from the wonderful smoky beauty of a sunset over London, with its lurid lights and inky shadows and all the marvelous tints that come on foul clouds even as on foul water, and to realize all the grim sternness of my own cold stone building, with its wealth of breathing misery, and my own desolate heart to endure it all. I reached him just as the sun was going down, and from his window saw the red disc sink. As it sank he became less and less frenzied; and just as it dipped he slid from the hands that held him, an inert mass, on the floor. It is wonderful, however, what intellectual recuperative power lunatics have, for within a few minutes he stood up quite calmly and looked around him. I signaled to the attendants not to hold him, for I was anxious to see what he would do. He went straight over to the window and brushed out the crumbs of sugar; then he took his fly-box and emptied it outside, and threw away the box: then he shut the window and crossing over, sat down on his bed. All this surprised me, so I asked him: "Are you not going to keep flies any more?"
"No," said he; "I am sick of all that rubbish!" He certainly is a wonderfully interesting study. I wish I could get some glimpse of his mind or of the cause of his sudden passion. Stop; there may be a clue after all, if we can find why to-day his paroxysms came on at high noon and at sunset. Can it be that there is a malign influence of the sun at periods which affects certain natures- as at times the moon does others? We shall see.
Telegram, Seward, London, to Van Helsing, Amsterdam.
"4 September.- Patient still better to-day."

Telegram, Seward, London, to Van Helsing, Amsterdam.
"5 September- Patient greatly improved. Good appetite; sleeps naturally; good spirits; colour coming back."

Telegram, Seward, London, to Van Helsing, Amsterdam.
"6 September.- Terrible change for the worse. Come at once; do not lose an hour. I hold over telegram to Holmwood till have seen you."

CHAPTER XI.
LETTERS, ETC.- continued.
Lucy Westenra's Diary.
12 September.- How good they all are to me. I quite love that dear Dr. Van Helsing. I wonder why he was so anxious about these flowers. He positively frightened me, he was so fierce. And yet he must have been right, for I feel comfort from them already. Somehow, I do not dread being alone to-night, and I can go to sleep without fear. I shall not mind any flapping outside the window. Oh, the terrible struggle that I have had against sleep so often of late; the pain of the sleeplessness, or the pain of the fear of sleep, with such unknown horrors as it has for me! How blessed are some people, whose lives have no fears, no dreads; to whom sleep is a blessing that comes nightly, and brings nothing but sweet dreams. Well, here I am to-night, hoping for sleep, and lying like Ophelia in the play, with "virgin crants and maiden strewments." I never liked garlic before, but to-night it is delightful! There is peace in its smell; I feel sleep coming already. Good-night, everybody.
Dr. Seward's Diary.
13 September.- Called at the Berkeley and found Van Helsing, as usual, up to time. The carriage ordered from the hotel was waiting. The Professor took his bag, which he always brings with him now.
Let all be put down exactly. Van Helsing and I arrived at Hillingham at eight o'clock. It was a lovely morning; the bright sunshine and all the fresh feeling of early autumn seemed liked the completion of nature's annual work. The leaves were turning to all kinds of beautiful colours, but had not yet begun to drop from the trees. When we entered we met Mrs. Westenra coming out of the morning room. She is always an early riser. She greeted us warmly and said:-
"You will be glad to know that Lucy is better. The dear child is still asleep. I looked into her room and saw her, but did not go in, lest I should disturb her." The Professor smiled, and looked quite jubilant. He rubbed his hands together, and said:-
"Aha! I thought I had diagnosed the case. My treatment is working," to which she answered:-
"You must not take all the credit to yourself, doctor Lucy's state this morning is due in part to me."
"How do you mean, ma'am?" asked the Professor.
"Well, I was anxious about the dear child in the night, and went into her room. She was sleeping soundly- so soundly that even my coming did not wake her. But the room was awfully stuffy. There were a lot of those horrible, strong-smelling flowers about everywhere, and she had actually a bunch of them round her neck. I feared that the heavy odour would be too much for the dear child in her weak state, so I took them all away and opened a bit of the window to let in a little fresh air. You will be pleased with her, I am sure."
She moved off into her boudoir, where she usually breakfasted early. As she had spoken, I watched the Professor's face, and saw it turn ashen grey. He had been able to retain his self-command whilst the poor lady was present, for he knew her state and how mischievous a shock would be; he actually smiled on her as he held open the door for her to pass into her room. But the instant she had disappeared he pulled me, suddenly and forcibly, into the dining-room and closed the door.
Then, for the first time in my life, I saw Van Helsing break down. He raised his hands over his head in a sort of mute despair, and then beat his palms together in a helpless way; finally he sat down on a chair, and putting his hands before his face, began to sob, with loud, dry sobs that seemed to come from the very racking of his heart. Then he raised his arms again, as though appealing to the whole universe. "God! God! God!" he said. "What have we done, what has this poor thing done, that we are so sore beset? is there fate amongst us still, sent down form the pagan world of old, that such things must be, and in such way? This poor mother, all unknowing, and all for the best as she think, does such thing as lose her daughter body and soul; and we must not tell her, we must not even warn her, or she die, and then both die. Oh, how we are beset! How are all the powers of the devils against us!" Suddenly he jumped to his feet. "Come," he said, "come, we must see and act. Devils or no devils, or all the devils at once, it matters not; we fight him all the same." He went to the hall-door for his bag; and together we went up to Lucy's room.
Once again I drew up the blind, whilst Van Helsing went towards the bed. This time he did not start as he looked on the poor face with the same awful, waxen pallor as before. He wore a look of stern sadness and infinite pity.
"As I expected," he murmured, with that hissing inspiration of his which meant so much. Without a word he went and locked the door, and then began to set out on the little table the instruments for yet another operation of transfusion of blood. I had long ago recognised the necessity, and begun to take off my coat, but he stopped me with a warning hand. "No!" he said. "To-day you must operate. I shall provide. You are weakened already." As he spoke he took off his coat and rolled up his shirt-sleeve.
Again the operation; again the narcotic; again some return of colour to the ashy cheeks, and the regular breathing of healthy sleep. This time I watched whilst Van Helsing recruited himself and rested.
Presently he took an opportunity of telling Mrs. Westenra that she must not remove anything from Lucy's room without consulting him; that the flowers were of medicinal value, and that the breathing of their odour was a part of the system of cure. Then he took over the care of the case himself, saying that he would watch this night and the next and would send me word when to come.
After another hour Lucy waked from her sleep, fresh and bright and seemingly not much the worse for her terrible ordeal.
What does it all mean? I am beginning to wonder if my long habit of life amongst the insane is beginning to tell upon my own brain.

Lucy Westenra's Diary.
17 September.- Four days and nights of peace. I am getting so strong again that I hardly know myself It is as if I had passed through some long nightmare, and had just awakened to see the beautiful sunshine and feel the fresh air of the morning around me. I have a dim half-remembrance of long, anxious times of waiting and fearing; darkness in which there was not even the pain of hope to make present distress more poignant; and then long spell of oblivion, and the rising back to life as a diver coming up through a great press of water. Since, however, Dr. Van Helsing has been with me, all this bad dreaming seems to have passed away; the noises that used to frighten me out of my wits- the flapping against the windows, the distant voices which seemed so close to me, the harsh sounds that came form I know not where and commanded me to do I know not what- have all ceased. I go to bed now without any fear of sleep. I do not even try to keep awake. I have grown quite fond of the garlic, and a boxful arrives for me every day from Haarlem. To-night Dr. Van Helsing is going away, as he has to be for a day in Amsterdam. But I need not be watched; I am well enough to be left alone. Thank God for mother's sake, and dear Arthur's, and for all our friends who have been so kind! I shall not even feel the change, for last night Dr. Van Helsing slept in his chair a lot of the time. I found him asleep twice when I awoke; but I did not fear to go to sleep again, although the boughs or bats or something flapped almost angrily against the window-panes.

"The Pall Mall Gazette," 18 September.
The Escaped Wolf.
Perilous Adventure Of Our Interviewer.
Interview with the Keeper in the Zoological Gardens.
After many inquiries and almost as many refusals, and perpetually using the words "Pall Mall Gazette" as a sort of talisman, I managed to find the keeper of the section of the Zoological Gardens in which the wolf department is included. Thomas Bilder lives in one of the cottages in the enclosure behind the elephant-house, and was just sitting down to his tea when I found him. Thomas and his wife are hospitable folk, elderly, and without children, and if the specimen I enjoyed of their hospitality be of the average kind, their lives must be pretty comfortable. The keeper would not enter on what he called "business" until the supper was over, and we were all satisfied. Then when the table was cleared, and he had lit his pipe, he said:-
"Now, sir you can go on and arsk me what you want. You'll excoose me refoosin' to talk of perfeshunal subjects afore meals. I gives the wolves and the jackals and the hyenas in all our section their tea afore I begins to arsk them questions."
"How do you mean, ask them questions?" I queried, wishful to get him into a talkative humour.
"'Ittin' of them over the 'ead with a pole is one way; scratchin' of their hears is another, when gents as is flush wants a bit of a show-orf to their gals. I don't so much mind the fust- the 'ittin' with a pole afore I chucks in their dinner; but I waits till they've 'ad their sherry and kawfee, so to speak, afore I tries on with the ear-scratchin'. Mind you," he added philosophically, "there's a deal of the same nature in us as in them theer animiles. Here's you a-comin' and arksin' of me questions about my business, and I that grumpy-like that only for your bloomin' 'arf-quid I'd 'a' seen you blowed fust 'fore I'd answer. Not even when you arsked me sarcastic-like if I'd like you to arsk the Superintendent if you might arsk me questions. Without offense, did I tell yer to go to 'ell?"
"You did."
"An' when you said you'd report me for usin' of obscene language that was 'ittin' me over the ead; but the 'arf-quid made that all right. I weren't a-goin' to fight, so I waited for the food, and did with my 'owl as the wolves, and lions, and tigers does. But, Lor' love yer 'art, now that the old 'ooman has stuck a chunk if her tea-cake in me, an' rinsed me out with her bloomin' old teapot, and I've lit hup, you may scratch my ears for all you're worth, and won't git even a growl out of me. Drive along with your questions. I know what yer a-comin' at, that 'ere escaped wolf."
"Exactly. I want you to give me your view of it. Just tell me how it happened; and when I know the facts I'll get you to say what you consider was the cause of it, and how you think the whole affair will end."
"All right, guv'nor. This 'ere is about the 'ole story. That 'ere wolf what we called Bersicker was one of three grey ones that come from Norway to Jamrach's, which we bought off him four year ago. He was a nice well-behaved wolf, that never gave no trouble to talk of. I'm more surprised at 'im for wantin' to get out nor any other animile in the place. But, there, you can't trust wolves no more nor women."
"Don't you mind him, sir!" broke in Mrs. Tom, with a cherry laugh. "'E's got mindin' the animiles so long that blest if he ain't like a old wolf 'isself! But there ain't no 'arm in 'im."
"Well, sir, it was about two hours after feedin' yesterday when I first hear my disturbance. I was makin' up a litter in the
monkey-house for a young puma which is ill; but when I heard the yelpin' and 'owlin' I kem away straight. There was Bersicker a-tearin' like a mad thing at the bars as if he wanted to get out. There wasn't much people about that day, and close at hand was only one man, a tall, thin chap, with a 'ook nose and a pointed beard, with a few white hairs runnin' through it. He had a 'ard, cold look and red eyes, and I took a sort of mislike to him, for it seemed as if it was 'im as they was hirritated at. He 'ad white kid gloves on 'is 'ands, and he pointed out the animiles to me and says: 'Keeper, these wolves seem upset at something.'
"'Maybe it's you,'says I, for I did not like the airs as he give 'isself. He didn't git angry, as I 'oped he would, but he smiled a
kind of insolent smile, with a mouth full of white sharp teeth. 'Oh no, they wouldn't like me,' 'e says.
"'Ow yes, they would,' says I, a-imitatin' of him. 'They always likes a bone or two to clean their teeth on about tea-time, which you 'as a bagful.'
"Well, it was a odd thing, but when the animiles see us a-talkin' they lay down, and when I went over to Bersicker he let me stroke his ears same as ever. That there man kem over, and blessed but if he didn't put in his hand and stroke the old wolfs ears too!
"'Tyke care,' says I. 'Bersicker is quick.'
"'Never mind,' he says. 'I'm used to 'em!'
"'Are you in the business yourself?' I says, tyking off my 'at, for a man what trades in wolves, anceterer, is a good friend to
keeper.
"'No.' says he, 'not exactly in the business, but I 'ave made pets of several.' And with that he lifts his 'at as perlite as a lord,
and walks away. Old Bersicker kep' a-lookin' arter' 'im till 'e was out of sight, and then went and lay down in a corner, and wouldn't come hout the 'ole hevening. Well, larst night, so soon as the moon was hup, the wolves here all began a-'owling. There warn't nothing for them to 'owl at. There warn't no one near, except some one that was evidently a-callin' a dog somewheres out back of the gardings in the Park road. Once or twice I went out to see that all was right, and it was, and then the 'owling stopped. Just before twelve o'clock I just took a look round afore turnin' in, an, bust me, but when I kem opposite to old Bersicker's cage I see the rails broken and twisted about and the cage empty. And that's all I know for certing."
"Did any one else see anything?"
"One of our gard'ners was a-comin' 'ome about that time from a 'armony, when he sees a big grey dog comin' out through the garding 'edges. At least, so he says; but I don't give much for it myself, for if he did 'e never said a word about it to his missis when 'e got 'ome, and it was only after the escape of the wolf was made known, and we had been up all night- a-huntin' of the Park for Bersicker, that he remembered seein' anything. My own belief was that the 'armony 'ad got into his 'ead."
"Now, Mr. Bilder, can you account in any way for the escape of the wolf?"
"Well, sir," he said, with a suspicious sort of modesty, "I think I can; but I don't know as 'ow you'd be satisfied with the theory."
"Certainly I shall. If a man like you, who knows the animals from experience, can't hazard a good guess at any rate, who is even to try?"
"Well then, sir, I accounts for it this way; it seems to me that 'ere wolf escaped- simply because he wanted to get out."
From the hearty way that both Thomas and his wife laughed at the joke I could see that it had done service before, and that the whole explanation was simply an elaborate sell. I couldn't cope in badinage with the worthy Thomas, but I thought I knew a surer way to his heart, so I said:-
"Now, Mr. Bilder, we'll consider that first half-sovereign worked off, and this brother of his is waiting to be claimed when you've told me what you think will happen."
"Right y'are, sir," he said briskly. "Ye'll excoose me, I know, for a-chaffin' of ye, but the old woman here winked at me, which was as much as telling me to go on."
"Well, I never!" said the old lady.
"My opinion is this: that 'ere wolf is a-'idin' of, somewheres. The gard'ner wot didn't remember said he was a-gallopin' northward faster than a horse could go; but I don't believe him, for, yer see, sir, wolves don't gallop no more nor dogs does, they not bein' built that way. Wolves is fine things in a story-book, and I dessay when they gets in packs and does be chivyin' somethin' that's more afeared than they is they can make a devil of a noise and chop it up, whatever it is. But, Lor' bless you, in real life a wolf is only a low creature, not half so clever or bold as a good dog; and not half a quarter so much fight in 'im. This one ain't been used to fightin' or even to providin' for hisself, and more like he's somewhere round the Park a-'idin' an' a-shiverin' of, and, if he thinks at all, wonderin' where he is to get his breakfast from; or maybe he's got down some area and is an a coal-celler. My eye, won't some cook get a rum start when she sees his green eyes a-shining at her out of the dark! If he can't get food he's bound to look for it, and mayhap he may chance to light on a butcher's shop in time. If he doesn't, and some nursemaid goes a-walkin' orf with a soldier, leavin' of the hinfant in the perambulator- well then I shouldn't be surprised if the census is one babby the less. That's all."
I was handing him the half-sovereign, when something came bobbing up against the window, and Mr. Bilder's face doubled its natural length with surprise.
"God bless me!" he said. "If there ain't old Bersicker come back by 'isself!"
He went to the door and opened it; a most unnecessary proceeding it seemed to me. I have always thought that a wild animal never looks so well as when some obstacle of pronounced durability is between us; a personal experience has intensified rather than diminished that idea.
After all, however, there is nothing like custom, for neither Bilder nor his wife thought any more of the wolf than I should of a dog. The animal itself was as peaceful and well-behaved as that father of all picture-wolves- Red Riding Hood's quondam friend, whilst moving her confidence in masquerade.
The whole scene was an unutterable mixture of comedy and pathos. The wicked wolf that for half a day had paralysed London and set all the children in the town shivering in their shoes, was there in a sort of penitent mood, and was received and petted like a sort of vulpine prodigal son. Old Bilder examined him all over with most tender solicitude, and when he had finished with his penitent said:-
"There, I knew the poor old chap would get into some kind of trouble; didn't I say it all along? Here's his head all cut and full of broken glass. 'E's been a-gettin' over some bloomin' wall or other. It's a shyme that people are allowed to top their walls with broken bottles. This 'ere's what comes of it. Come along, Bersicker."
He took the wolf and locked him up in a cage, with a piece of meat that satisfied, in quantity at any rate, the elementary conditions of the fatted calf, and went off to report.
I came off, too, to report the only exclusive information that is given to-day regarding the strange escapade at the Zoo.

Dr. Seward's Diary.
17 September.- I was engaged after dinner in my study posting up my books, which, through press of other work and the many visits to Lucy, had fallen sadly into arrear. Suddenly the door was burst open, and in rushed my patient, with his face distorted with passion. I was thunder-struck, for such a thing as a patient getting of his own accord into the Superintendent's study is almost unknown. Without an instant's pause he made straight at me. He had a dinner-knife in his hand, and, as I saw he was dangerous, I tried to keep the table between us. He was too quick and too strong for me, however; for before I could get my balance he had struck at me and cut my left wrist rather severely. Before he could strike again, however, I got in my right, and he was sprawling on his back on the floor. My wrist bled freely, and quite a little pool trickled on to the carpet. I saw that my friend was not intent on further effort, and occupied myself binding up my wrist, keeping a wary eye on the prostrate figure all the time. When the attendants rushed in, and we turned our attention to him, his employment positively sickened me. He was lying on his belly on the floor licking up, like a dog, the blood which had fallen from my wounded wrist. He was easily secured, and, to my surprise, went with the attendants quite placidly, simply repeating over and over again: "The blood is the life! the blood is the life!"
I cannot afford to lose blood just at present: I have lost too much of late for my physical good, and then the prolonged strain of Lucy's illness and its horrible phases is telling on me. I am overexcited and weary, and I need rest, rest, rest. Happily Van Helsing has not summoned me, so I need not forego my sleep; to-night I could not well do without it.

Telegram, Van Helsing, Antwerp, to Seward, Carfax.
(Sent to Carfax, Sussex, as no county given; delivered late by twenty-two hours.)
"17 September.- Do not fail to be at Hillingham to-night. If not watching all the time, frequently visit and see that flowers are as placed; very important; do not fail. Shall be with you as soon as possible after arrival."

Dr. Seward's Diary.
18 September.- Just off for train to London. The arrival of Van Helsing's telegram filled me with dismay. A whole night lost, and I know by bitter experience what may happen in a night. Of course it is possible that all may be well, but what may have happened? Surely there is some horrible doom hanging over us that every possible accident should thwart us in all we try to do. I shall take this cylinder with me, and then I can complete my entry on Lucy's phonograph.

Memorandum left by Lucy Westenra.
17 September. Night.- I write this and leave it to be seen, so that no one may by any chance get into trouble through me. This is an exact record of what took place tonight. I feel I am dying of weakness, and have barely strength to write, but it must be done if I die in the doing.
I went to bed as usual, taking care that the flowers were placed as Dr. Van Helsing directed, and soon fell asleep.
I was waked by the flapping at the window, which had begun after that sleep-walking on the cliff at Whitby when Mina saved me, and which now I know so well. I was not afraid, but I did wish that Dr. Seward was in the next room- as Dr. Van Helsing said he would be- so that I might have called him. I tried to go to sleep, but could not. Then there came to me the old fear of sleep, and I determined to keep awake. Perversely sleep would try to come then when I did not want it; so, as I feared to be alone, I opened my door and called out:- Is there anybody there?' There was no answer. I was afraid to wake mother, and so closed my door again. Then outside in the shrubbery I heard a sort of howl like a dog's, but more fierce and deeper. I went to the window and looked out, but could see nothing, except a big bat, which had evidently been buffeting its wings against the window. So I went back to bed again, but determined not to go to sleep. Presently the door opened, and mother looked in; seeing by my moving that I was not asleep, came in, and sat by me. She said to me even more sweetly and softly than her wont:-
"I was uneasy about you, darling, and came in to see that you were all right."
I feared she might catch cold sitting there, and asked her to come in and sleep with me, so she came into bed, and lay down beside me; she did not take off her dressing gown, for she said she would only stay a while and then go back to her own bed. As she lay there in my arms, and I in hers, the flapping and buffeting came to the window again. She was startled and a little frightened, and cried out: "What is that?" I tried to pacify her, and at last succeeded, and she lay quiet; but I could hear her poor dear heart still beating terribly. After a while there was the low howl again out in the shrubbery, and shortly after there was a crash at the window, and a lot of broken glass was hurled on the floor. The window blind blew back with the wind that rushed in, and in the aperture of the broken panes there was the head of a great, gaunt grey wolf. Mother cried out in a fright, and struggled up into a sitting posture, and clutched wildly at anything that would help her. Amongst other things, she clutched the wreath of flowers that Dr. Van Helsing insisted on my wearing round my neck, and tore it away form me. For a second or two she sat up, pointing at the wolf, and there was a strange and horrible gurgling in her throat; then she fell over, as if struck with lightning, and her head hit my forehead and made me dizzy for a moment or two. The room and all round seemed to spin round. I kept my eyes fixed on the window, but the wolf drew his head back, and a whole myriad of little specks seemed to come blowing in through the broken window, and wheeling and circling round like the pillar of dust that travellers describe when there is a simoom in the desert. I tried to stir, but there was some spell upon me, and dear mother's poor body, which seemed to grow cold already- for her dear heart had ceased to beat- weighed me down; and I remembered no more for a while.
The time did not seem long, but very, very awful, till I recovered consciousness again. Somewhere near, a passing bell was tolling; the dogs all round the neighborhood were howling; and in our shrubbery, seemingly just outside, a nightingale was singing. I was dazed and stupid with pain and terror and weakness, but the sound of the nightingale seemed like the voice of my dead mother come back to comfort me. The sounds seemed to have awakened the maids, too, for I could hear their bare feet pattering outside my door. I called to them, and they came in, and when they saw what had happened, and what it was that lay over me on the bed, they screamed out. The wind rushed in through the broken window, and the door slammed to. They lifted off the body of my dear mother, and laid her, covered up with a sheet, on the bed after I had got up. They were all so frightened and nervous that I directed them to go to the dining-room and have each a glass of wine. The door flew open for an instant and closed again. The maids shrieked, and then went in a body to the dining-room; and I laid what flowers I had on my dear mother's breast. When they were there I remembered what Dr. Van Helsing had told me, but I didn't like to remove them, and, besides, I would have some of the servants to sit up with me now. I was surprised that the maids did not come back. I called them, but got no answer, so I went to the dining-room to look for them.
My heart sank when I saw what had happened. They all four lay helpless on the floor, breathing heavily. The decanter of sherry was on the table half full, but there was a queer, acrid smell about. I was suspicious, and examined the decanter. It smelt of laudanum, and looking on the sideboard, I found that the bottle which mother's doctor uses for her- oh! did use- was empty. What am I to do? what am I to do? I am back in the room with mother. I cannot leave her, and I am alone, save for the sleeping servants, whom some one has drugged. Alone with the dead! I dare not go out, for I can hear the low howl of the wolf through the broken window.
The air seems full of specks, floating and circling in the draught from the window, and the lights burn blue and dim. What am I to do? God shield me from harm this night! I shall hide this paper in my breast, where they shall find it when they come to lay me out. My dear mother gone! It is time that I go too. Good-bye, dear Arthur, if I should not survive this night. God keep you, dear, and God help me!
CHAPTER XIII.
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY.
The funeral was arranged for the next succeeding day, so that Lucy and her mother might be buried together. I attended to all the ghastly formalities, and the urbane undertaker proved that his staff were afflicted- or blessed- with something of his own obsequious suavity. Even the woman who performed the last offices for the dead remarked to me, in a confidential, brother-professional way, when she had come out from the death-chamber:-
"She makes a very beautiful corpse, sir. It's quite a privilege to attend on her. It's not too much to say that she will do credit to our establishment!"
I noticed that Van Helsing never kept far away. This was possible from the disordered state of things in the household. There were no relatives at hand; and as Arthur had to be back the next day to attend at his father's funeral, we were unable to notify any one who should have been bidden. Under the circumstances, Van Helsing and I took it upon ourselves to examine papers, etc. He insisted upon looking over Lucy's papers himself. I asked him why, for I feared that he, being a foreigner, might not be quite aware of English legal requirements, and so might in ignorance make some unnecessary trouble. He answered me:-
"I know; I know. You forget that I am a lawyer as well as a doctor. But this is not altogether for the law. You knew that, when you avoided the coroner. I have more than him to avoid. There may be papers more- such as this."
As he spoke he took from his pocket-book the memorandum which had been in Lucy's breast, and which she had torn in her sleep.
"When you find anything of the solicitor who is for the late Mrs. Westenra, seal all her papers, and write him tonight. For me, I watch here in the room and in Miss Lucy's old room all night, and I myself search for what may be. It is not well that her very thoughts go into the hands of strangers."
I went on with my part of the work, and in another half hour had found the name and address of Mrs. Westenra's solicitor and had written to him. All the poor lady's papers were in order; explicit directions regarding the place of burial were given. I had hardly sealed the letter, when, to my surprise, Van Helsing walked into the room, saying:-
"Can I help you, friend John? I am free, and if I may, my service is to you."
"Have you got what you looked for?" I asked, to which he replied:-
"I did not look for any specific thing. I only hoped to find, and find I have, all that there was- only some letters and a few
memoranda, and a diary new begun. But I have them here, and we shall for the present say nothing of them. I shall see that poor lad to-morrow evening, and, with his sanction, I shall use some."
When we had finished the work in hand, he said to me:-
"And now, friend John, I think we may to bed. We want sleep, both you and I, and rest to recuperate. To-morrow we shall have much to do, but for the to-night there is no need of us. Alas!"
Before turning in we went to look at poor Lucy. The undertaker had certainly done his work well, for the room was turned into a small chapelle ardente. There was a wilderness of beautiful white flowers, and death was made as little repulsive as might be. The end of the winding-sheet was laid over the face; when the Professor bent over and turned it gently back, we both started at the beauty before us, the tall wax candies showing a sufficient light to note it well. All Lucy's loveliness had come back to her in death, and the hours that had passed, instead of leaving traces of "decay's effacing fingers," had but restored the beauty of life, till positively I could not believe my eyes that I was looking at a corpse.
The Professor looked sternly grave. He had not loved her as I had, and there was no need for tears in his eyes. He said to me: "Remain till I return," and left the room. He came back with a handful of wild garlic from the box waiting in the hall, but which had not been opened, and placed the flowers amongst the others on and around the bed. Then he took from his neck, inside his collar, a little gold crucifix, and placed it over the mouth. He restored the sheet to its place, and we came away.
I was undressing in my own room, when, with a premonitory tap at the door, he entered, and at once began to speak:-
"To-morrow I want you to bring me, before night, a set of post-mortem knives."
"Must we make an autopsy?" I asked.
"Yes and no. I want to operate, but not as you think. Let me tell you now, but not a word to another. I want to cut off her head and take out her heart. Ah! you a surgeon, and so shocked! You, whom I have seen with no tremble of hand or heart, do operations of life and death that make the rest shudder. Oh, but I must not forget, my dear friend John, that you loved her; and I have not forgotten it, for it is I that shall operate, and you must only help. I would like to do it to-night, but for Arthur I must not; he will be free after his father's funeral to-morrow, and he will want to see her- to see it. Then, when she is coffined ready for the next day, you and I shall come when all sleep. We shall unscrew the coffin-lid, and shall do our operation; and then replace all, so that none know, save we alone."
"But why do it at all? The girl is dead. Why mutilate her poor body without need? And if there is no necessity for a post-mortem and nothing to gain by it- no good to her, to us, to science, to human knowledge- why do it? Without such it is monstrous."
For answer he put his hand on my shoulder, and said, with infinite tenderness:-
"Friend John, I pity your poor bleeding heart; and I love you the more because it does so bleed. If I could, I would take on myself the burden that you do bear. But there are things that you know not, but that you shall know, and bless me for knowing, though they are not pleasant things. John, my child, you have been my friend now many years, and yet did you ever know me to do any without good cause? I may err- I am but man; but I believe in all I do. Was it not for these causes that you send for me when the great trouble came? Yes! Were you not amazed, nay horrified, when I would not let Arthur kiss his love- though she was dying- and snatched him away by all my strength? Yes! And yet you saw how she thanked me, with her so beautiful dying eyes, her voice, too, so weak, and she kiss my rough old hand and bless me? Yes! And did you not hear me swear promise to her, that so she closed her eyes grateful? Yes!
"Well, I have good reason now for all I want to do. You have for many years trust me; you have believe me weeks past, when there be things so strange that you might have well doubt. Believe me yet a little, friend John. If you trust me not, then I must tell what I think; and that is not perhaps well. And if I work- as work I shall, no matter trust or no trust- without my friend trust in me, I work with heavy heart and feel, oh! so lonely when I want all help and courage that may be!" He paused a moment and went on solemnly: "Friend John, there are strange and terrible days before us. Let us not be two, but one, that so we work to a good end. Will you not have faith in me?"
I took his hand, and promised him. I held my door open as he went away, and watched him go into his room and close the door. As I stood without moving, I saw one of the maids pass silently along the passage- she had her back towards me, so did not see me- and go into the room where Lucy lay. The sight touched me. Devotion is so rare, and we are so grateful to those who show it unasked to those we love. Here was a poor girl putting aside the terrors which she naturally had of death to go watch alone by the bier of the mistress whom she loved, so that the poor clay might not be lonely till laid to eternal rest...
I must have slept long and soundly, for it was broad daylight when Van Helsing waked me by coming into my room. He came over to my bedside and said:-
"You need not trouble about the knives; we shall not do it."
"Why not?" I asked. For his solemnity of the night before had greatly impressed me.
"Because," he said sternly, "it is too late- or too early. See!" Here he held up the little golden crucifix. "This was stolen in the night."
"How, stolen," I asked in wonder, "since you have it now?"
"Because I get it back from the worthless wretch who stole it, from the woman who robbed the dead and the living. Her punishment will surely come, but not through me; she knew not altogether what she did, and thus unknowing she only stole. Now we must wait."
He went away on the word, leaving me with a new mystery to think of, a new puzzle to grapple with.
The forenoon was a dreary time, but at noon the solicitor came: Mr. Marquand, of Wholeman, Sons, Marquand & Lidderdale. He was very genial and very appreciative of what we had done, and took off our hands all cares as to details. During lunch he told us that Mrs. Westenra had for some time expected sudden death from her heart, and had put her affairs in absolute order; he informed us that, with the exception of a certain entailed property of Lucy's father's which now, in default of direct issue, went back to a distant branch of the family, the whole estate, real and personal, was left absolutely to Arthur Holmwood. When he had told us so much he went on:-
"Frankly we did our best to prevent such a testamentary disposition, and pointed out certain contingencies that might leave her daughter either penniless or not so free as she should be to act regarding a matrimonial alliance. Indeed, we pressed the matter so far that we almost came into collision, for she asked us if we were or were not prepared to carry out her wishes. Of course, we had then no alternative but to accept. We were right in principle, and ninety-nine times out of a hundred we should have proved, by the logic of events, the accuracy of our judgment. Frankly, however, I must admit that in this case any other form of disposition would have rendered impossible the carrying out of her wishes. For by her predeceasing her daughter the latter would have come into possession of the property, and, even had she only survived her mother by five minutes, her property would, in case there were no will- and a will was a practical impossibility in such a case- have been treated at her decease as under intestacy. In which case Lord Godalming, though so dear a friend, would have had no claim in the world; and the inheritors, being remote, would not be likely to abandon their just rights, for sentimental reasons regarding an entire stranger. I assure you, my dear sirs, I am rejoiced at the result, perfectly rejoiced."
He was a good fellow, but his rejoicing at the one little part- in which he was officially interested- of so great a tragedy, was an object-lesson in the limitations of sympathetic understanding.
He did not remain long, but said he would look in later in the day and see Lord Godalming. His coming, however, had been a certain comfort to us, since it assured us that we should not have to dread hostile criticism as to any of our acts. Arthur was expected at five o'clock, so a little before that time we visited the death-chamber. It was so in very truth, for now both mother and daughter lay in it. The undertaker, true to his craft, had made the best display he could of his goods, and there was a mortuary air about the place that lowered our spirits at once. Van Helsing ordered the former arrangement to be adhered to, explaining that, as Lord Godalming was coming very soon, it would be less harrowing to his feelings to see all that was left of his fiancee quite alone. The undertaker seemed shocked at his own stupidity, and exerted himself to restore things to the condition in which we left them the night before, so that when Arthur came such shocks to his feelings as we could avoid were saved.
Poor fellow! He looked desperately sad and broken; even his stalwart manhood seemed to have shrunk somewhat under the strain of his much-tried emotions. He had, I knew, been very genuinely and devotedly attached to his father; and to lose him, and at such a time, was a bitter blow to him. With me he was warm as ever, and to Van Helsing he was sweetly courteous; but I could not help seeing that there was some constraint with him. The Professor noticed it, too, and motioned me to bring him upstairs. I did so, and left him at the door of the room, as I felt he would like to be quite alone with her; but he took my arm and led me in, saying huskily:-
"You loved her too, old fellow; she told me all about it, and there was no friend had a closer place in her heart than you. I
don't know how to thank you for all you have done for her. I can't think yet..."
Here he suddenly broke down, and threw his arms round my shoulders and laid his head on my breast, crying:-
"Oh, Jack! Jack! What shall I do? The whole of life seems gone from me all at once, and there is nothing in the wide world for me to live for."
I comforted him as well as I could. In such cases men do not need much expression. A grip of the hand, the tightening of an arm over the shoulder, a sob in unison, are expressions of sympathy dear to a man's heart. I stood still and silent till his sobs died away, and then I said softly to him:-
"Come and look at her."
Together we moved over to the bed, and I lifted the lawn from her face. God! how beautiful she was. Every hour seemed to be enhancing her loveliness. It frightened and amazed me somewhat; and as for Arthur, he fell a-trembling, and finally was shaken with doubt as with an ague. At last, after a long pause, he said to me in a faint whisper:-
"Jack, is she really dead?"
I assured him sadly that it was so, and went on to suggest- for I felt that such a horrible doubt should not have life for a moment longer than I could help- that it often happened that after death faces became softened and even resolved into their youthful beauty; that this was especially so when death had been preceded by any acute or prolonged suffering. It seemed to quite do away with any doubt, and, after kneeling beside the couch for a while and looking at her lovingly and long, he turned aside. I told him that that must be good-bye, as the coffin had to be prepared; so he went back and took her dead hand in his and kissed it, and bent over and kissed her forehead. He came away, fondly looking back over his shoulder at her as he came.
I left him in the drawing-room, and told Van Helsing that he had said good-bye; so the latter went to the kitchen to tell the undertaker's men to proceed with the preparations and to screw up the coffin. When he came out of the room again I told him of Arthur's question, and he replied:-
"I am not surprised. Just now I doubted for a moment myself!"
We all dined together, and I could see that poor Art was trying to make the best of things. Van Helsing had been silent all dinner-time; but when we had lit our cigars he said:-
"Lord-;" but Arthur interrupted him:-
"No, no, not that, for God's sake! not yet at any rate. Forgive me, sir: I did not mean to speak offensively; it is only because my loss is so recent."
The Professor answered very sweetly:-
"I only used that name because I was in doubt. I must not call you 'Mr.,'and I have grown to love you- yes, my dear boy, to love you- as Arthur."
Arthur held out his hand, and took the old man's warmly.
"Call me what you will," he said. "I hope I may always have the title of a friend. And let me say that I am at a loss for words to thank you for your goodness to my poor dear." He paused a moment, and went on: "I know that she understood your goodness even better than I do; and if I was rude or in any way wanting at that time you acted so- you remember"- the Professor nodded- "you must forgive me."
He answered with a grave kindness:-
"I know it was hard for you to quite trust me then, for to trust such violence needs to understand; and I take it that you do not- that you cannot- trust me now, for you do not yet understand. And there may be more times when I shall want you to trust when you cannot- and may not- and must not yet understand. But the time will come when your trust shall be whole and complete in me, and when you shall understand as though the sunlight himself shone through. Then you shall bless me from first to last for your own sake, and for the sake of others, and for her dear sake to whom I swore to protect."
"And, indeed, indeed, sir," said Arthur warmly, "I shall in all ways trust you. I know and believe you have a very noble heart, and you are Jack's friend, and you were hers. You shall do what you like."
The Professor cleared his throat a couple of times, as though about to speak, and finally said:-
"May I ask you something now?"
"Certainly."
"You know that Mrs. Westenra left you all her property?"
"No, poor dear; I never thought of it."
"And as it is all yours, you have a right to deal with it as you will. I want you to give me permission to read all Miss Lucy's
papers and letters. Believe me, it is no idle curiosity. I have a motive of which, be sure, she would have approved. I have them all here. I took them before we knew that all was yours, so that no strange hand might touch them- no strange eye look through words into her soul. I shall keep them, if I may; even you may not see them yet, but I shall keep them safe. No word shall be lost; and in the good time I shall give them back to you. It's a hard thing I ask, but you will do it, will you not, for Lucy's sake?"
Arthur spoke out heartily, like his old self:-
"Dr. Van Helsing, you may do what you will. I feel that in saying this I am doing what my dear one would have approved. I shall not trouble you with questions till the time comes."
The old Professor stood up as he said solemnly:-
"And you are right. There will be pain for us all; but it will not be all pain, nor will this pain be the last. We and you too- you most of all, my dear boy- will have to pass through the bitter water before we reach the sweet. But we must be brave of heart and unselfish, and do our duty, and all will be well!"
I slept on a sofa in Arthur's room that night. Van Helsing did not go to bed at all. He went to and fro, as if patrolling the house, and was never out of sight of the room where Lucy lay in her coffin, strewn with the wild garlic flowers, which sent, through the odour of lily and rose, a heavy, overpowering smell into the night.

Mina Harker's Journal.
22 September- In the train to Exeter. Jonathan sleeping.
It seems only yesterday that the last entry was made, and yet how much between then, in Whitby and all the world before me, Jonathan away and no news of him; and now, married to Jonathan, Jonathan a solicitor, a partner, rich, master of his business, Mr. Hawkins dead and buried, and Jonathan with another attack that may harm him. Some day he may ask me about it. Down it all goes. I am rusty in my shorthand- see what unexpected prosperity does for us- so it may be as well to freshen it up again with an exercise anyhow.
The service was very simple and very solemn. There were only ourselves and the servants there, one or two old friends of his from Exeter, his London agent, and a gentleman representing Sir John Paxton, the President of the Incorporated Law Society. Jonathan and I stood hand in hand, and we felt that our best and dearest friend was gone from us.
We came back to town quietly, taking a bus to Hyde Park Corner. Jonathan thought it would interest me to go into the Row for a while, so we sat down; but there were very few people there, and it was sad-looking and desolate to see so many empty chairs. It made us think of the empty chair at home; so we got up and walked down Piccadilly. Jonathan was holding me by the arm, the way he used to in old days before I went to school. I felt it very improper, for you can't go on for some years teaching etiquette and decorum to other girls without the pedantry of it biting into yourself a bit; but it was Jonathan, and he was my husband, and we didn't know anybody who saw us- and we didn't care if they did- so on we walked. I was looking at a very beautiful girl, in a big cart-wheel flat, sitting in a victoria outside Giuliano's, when I felt Jonathan clutch my arm so tight that he hurt me, and he said under his breath: "My God!" I am always anxious about Jonathan, for I fear that some nervous fit may upset him again; so I turned to him quickly, and asked him what it was that disturbed him.
He was very pale, and his eyes seemed bulging out as, half in terror and half in amazement, he gazed at a tall, thin man, with a beaky nose and black moustache and pointed beard, who was also observing the pretty girl. He was looking at her so hard that he did not see either of us, and so I had a good view of him. His face was not a good face; it was hard, and cruel, and sensual, and his big white teeth, that looked all the whiter because his lips were so red, were pointed like an animal's. Jonathan kept staring at him, till I was afraid he would notice. I feared he might take it ill, he looked so fierce and nasty. I asked Jonathan why he was disturbed, and he answered, evidently thinking I knew as much about it as he did: "Do you see who it is?"
"No, dear," I said; "I don't know him; who is it?" His answer seemed to shock and thrill me, for it was said as if he did not know that it was to me, Mina, to whom he was speaking:-
"It is the man himself!"
The poor dear was evidently terrified at something- very greatly terrified; I do believe that if he had not had me to lean on and to support him he would have sunk down. He kept staring; a man came out of the shop with a small parcel, and gave it to the lady, who then drove off. The dark man kept his eyes fixed on her, and when the carriage moved up Piccadilly he followed in the same direction, and hailed a hansom. Jonathan kept looking after him, and said, as if to himself.-
"I believe it is the Count, but he has grown young. My God, if this be so! Oh, my God! my God! if I only knew! if I only knew!" He was distressing himself so much that I feared to keep his mind on the subject by asking him any questions, so I remained silent. I drew him away quietly, and he, holding my arm, came easily. We walked a little further, and then went in and sat for a while in the Green Park. It was a hot day for autumn, and there was a comfortable seat in a shady place. After a few minutes staring at nothing, Jonathan's eyes closed, and he went quietly into a sleep, with his head on my shoulder. I thought it was the best thing for him, so did not disturb him. In about twenty minutes he woke up, and said to me quite cheerfully:-
"Why, Mina, I have been asleep! Oh, do forgive me for being so rude. Come, and we'll have a cup of tea somewhere." He had evidently forgotten all about the dark stranger, as in his illness he had forgotten all that this episode had reminded him of. I don't like this lapsing into forgetfulness; it may make or continue some injury to the brain. I must not ask him, for fear I shall do more harm than good; but I must somehow learn the facts of his journey abroad. The time is come, I fear, when I must open that parcel and know what is written. Oh, Jonathan, you will, I know, forgive me if I do wrong, but it is for your own dear sake.
Later.- A sad home-coming in every way- the house empty of the dear soul who was so good to us; Jonathan still pale and dizzy under a slight relapse of his malady; and now a telegram from Van Helsing, whoever he may be:-
"You will be grieved to hear that Mrs. Westenra died five days ago, and that Lucy died the day before yesterday. They were both buried to-day."
Oh, what a wealth of sorrow in a few words! Poor Mrs. Westenra! poor Lucy Gone, gone, never to return to us! And poor, poor Arthur, to have lost such sweetness out of his life! God help us all to bear our troubles.

Dr. Seward's Diary.
22 September.- it is all over. Arthur has gone back to Ring, and has taken Quincey Morris with him. What a fine fellow is Quincey! I believe in my heart of hearts that he suffered as much about Lucy's death as any of us; but he bore himself through it like a moral Viking. If America can go on breeding men like that, she will be a power in the world indeed. Van Helsing is lying down, having a rest preparatory to his journey. He goes over to Amsterdam to-night, but says he returns to-morrow night; that he only wants to make some arrangements which can only be made personally. He is to stop with me then, if he can; he says he has work to do in London which may take him some time. Poor old fellow! I fear that the strain of the past week has broken down even his iron strength. All the time of the burial he was, I could see, putting some terrible restraint on himself. When it was all over, we were standing beside Arthur, who, poor fellow, was speaking of his part in the operation where his blood had been transfused to his Lucy's veins; I could see Van Helsing's face grow white and purple by turns. Arthur was saying that he felt since then as if they two had been really married, and that she was his wife in the sight of God. None of us said a word of the other operations, and none of us ever shall. Arthur and Quincey went away together to the station, and Van Helsing and I came on here. The moment we were alone in the carriage he gave way to a regular fit of hysterics. He has denied to me since that it was hysterics, and insisted that it was only his sense of humour asserting itself under very terrible conditions. He laughed till he cried, and I had to draw down the blinds lest any one should see us and misjudge; and then he cried till he laughed again; and laughed and cried together, just as a woman does. I tried to be stern with him, as one is to a woman under the circumstances; but it had no effect. Men and women are so different in manifestations of nervous strength or weakness! Then where his face grew grave and stern again I asked him why his mirth, and why at such a time. His reply was in a way characteristic of him, for it was logical and forceful and mysterious. He said:-
"Ah, you don't comprehend, friend John. Do not think that I am not sad, though I laugh. See, I have cried even when the laugh did choke me. But no more think that I am all sorry when I cry, for the laugh he come just the same. Keep it always with you that laughter who knock at your door and say, 'May I come in?' is not the true laughter. No! he is a king, and he come when and how he like. He ask no person; he choose no time of suitability. He say, 'I am here.' Behold, in example I grieve my heart out for that so sweet young girl; I give my blood for her, though I am old and worn; I give my time, my skill, my sleep; I let my other sufferers want that so she may have all. And yet I can laugh at her very grave- laugh when the clay from the spade of the sexton drop upon her coffin and say. 'Thud! thud!' to my heart, till it send back the blood from my cheek. My heart bleed for that poor boy- that dear boy, so of the age of mine own boy had I been so blessed that he live, and with his hair and eyes the same. There, you know now why I love him so. And yet when he say things that touch my husband-Heart to the quick, and make my father-heart yearn to him as to no other man- not even to you, friend John, for we are more level in experiences than father and son- yet even at such moment King Laugh he come to me and shout and bellow in my ear, 'Here I am! here I am!' till the blood come dance back and bring some of the sunshine that he carry with him to my cheek. Oh, friend John, it is a strange world, a sad world, a world full of miseries, and woes, and troubles; and yet when King Laugh come he make them all dance to the tune he play. Bleeding hearts, and dry bones of the churchyard, and tears that burn as they fall- all dance together to the music that he make with that smileless mouth of him. And believe me, friend John, that he is good to come, and kind. Ah, we men and women are like ropes drawn tight with strain that pull us different ways. Then tears come; and, like the rain on the ropes, they brace us up, until perhaps the strain become too great, and we break. But King Laugh he come like the sunshine, and he ease off the strain again; and we bear to go on with our labour what it may be."
I did not like to wound him by pretending not to see his idea; but, as I did not yet understand the cause of his laughter, I asked him. As he answered the his face grew stern, and he said in quite a different tone:-
"Oh, it was the grim irony of it all- this so lovely lady garlanded with flowers, that looked so fair as life, till one by one we wondered if she were truly dead; she laid in that so fine marble house in that lonely churchyard, where rest so many of her kin, laid there with the mother who loved her, and whom she loved; and that sacred bell going 'Toll! toll! toll!' so sad and slow; and those holy men, with the white garments of the angel, pretending to read books, and yet all the time their eyes never on the page; and all of us with the bowed head. And all for what? She is dead; so! Is it not?"
"Well, for the life of me, Professor," I said, "I can't see anything to laugh at in all that. Why, your explanation makes it a harder puzzle than before. But even if the burial service was comic, what about poor Art and his trouble? Why, his heart was simply breaking."
"Just so. Said he not that the transfusion of his blood to her veins had made her truly his bride?"
"Yes, and it was a sweet and comforting idea for him."
"Quite so. But there was a difficulty, friend John. If so that, then what about the others? Ho, ho! There this so sweet maid is a polyandrist, and me, with my poor wife dead to me, but alive by Church's law, though no wits, all gone- even I, who am faithful husband to this now-no-wife, am bigamist."
"I don't see where the joke comes in there either!" I said; and I did not feel particularly pleased with him for saying such things. He laid his hand on my arm, and said:-
"Friend John, forgive me if I pain. I showed not my feeling to others when it would wound, but only to you, my old friend, whom I can trust. If you could have looked into my very heart then when I want to laugh; if you could have done so when the laugh arrived; if you could do so now, when King Laugh have pack up his crown and all that is to him- for he go far, far away from me, and for a long, long time- maybe you would perhaps pity me the most of all."
I was touched by the tenderness of his tone, and asked why.
"Because I know!"
And now we are all scattered; and for many a long day loneliness will sit over our roofs with brooding wings. Lucy lies in the tomb of her kin, a lordly death-house in a lonely churchyard, away from teeming London; where the air is fresh, and the sun rises over Hampstead Hill, and where wild flowers grow of their own accord.
So I can finish this diary; and God only knows if I shall ever begin another. If I do, or I I even open this again, it will be to deal with different people and different themes; for here at the end, where the romance of my life is told, ere I go back to take up the thread of my life-work, I say sadly and without hope,
"Finis."

"The Westminister Gazette," 25 September
A Hampstead Mystery.
The neighbourhood of Hampstead is just at present exercised with a series of events which seem to run on lines parallel to those of what was known to the writers of headlines as "The Kensington Horror," or "The Stabbing Woman," or "The Woman in Black." During the past two or three days several cases have occurred of young children straying from home or neglecting to return from their playing on the Heath. In all these cases the children were too young to give any properly intelligible account of themselves, but the consensus of their excuses is that they had been with a "bloofer lady." It has always been late in the evening when they have been missed, and on two occasions the children have not been found until early in the following morning. It is generally supposed in the neighbourhood that, as the first child missed gave as his reason for being away that a "bloofer lady" had asked him to come for a walk, the others had picked up the phrase and used it as occasion served. This is the more natural as the favourite game of the little ones at present is luring each other away by wiles. A correspondent writes us that to see some of the tiny tots pretending to be the "bloofer lady" is supremely funny. Some of our caricaturists might, he says, take a lesson in the irony of grotesque by comparing the reality and the picture. It is only in accordance with general principles of human nature that the "bloofer lady" should be the popular role at these al fresco performances. Our correspondent naively says that even Ellen Terry could not be so willingly attractive as some of these grubby-faced little children pretend- and even imagine themselves- to be.
There is, however, possibly a serious side to the question, for some of the children, indeed all who have been missed at night, have been slightly torn or wounded in the throat. The wounds seem such as might be made by a rat or a small dog, and although of not much importance individually, would tend to show that whatever animal inflicts them has a system or method of its own. The police of the division have been instructed to keep a sharp look-out for straying children, especially when very young, in and around Hampstead Heath, and for any stray dog which may be about.
"The Westminister Gazette," 25 September.
Extra Special.
THE HAMPSTEAD HORROR.
Another Child injured.
The "Bloofer Lady."
We have just received intelligence that another child, missed last night, was only discovered late in the morning under a furze bush at the Shooter's Hill side of Hampstead Heath, which is, perhaps, less frequented than the other parts. It has the same tiny wound in the throat as has been noticed in other cases. It was terribly weak, and looked quite emaciated. It too, when partially restored, had the common story to tell of being lured away by the "bloofer lady."


CHAPTER XV.
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY.
For a while sheer anger mastered me; it was as if he had during her life struck Lucy on the face. I smote the table hard and rose up as I said to him:-
"Dr. Van Helsing, are you mad?" He raised his head and looked at me, and somehow the tenderness of his face calmed me at once. "Would I were!" he said. "Madness were easy to bear compared with truth like this. Oh, my friend, why, think you, did I go so far round, why take so long to tell you so simple a thing? Was it because I hate you and have hated you all my life? Was it because I wished to give you pain? Was it that I wanted, now so late, revenge for that time when you saved my life, and from a fearful death? Ah no!"
"Forgive me," said I. He went on:-
"My friend, it was because I wished to be gentle in the breaking to you, for I know you have loved that so sweet lady. But even yet I do not expect you to believe. It is so hard to accept at once any abstract truth, that we may doubt such to be possible when we have always believed the 'no' of it; it is more hard still to accept so sad a concrete truth, and of such a one as Miss Lucy. To-night I go to prove it. Dare you come with me?"
This staggered me. A man does not like to prove such a truth; Byron excepted from the category, jealousy.
"And prove the very truth he most abhorred."
He saw my hesitation, and spoke:-
"The logic is simple, no madman's logic this time, jumping from tussock to tussock in a misty bog. If it be not true, then proof will be relief, at worst it will not harm. If it be true! Ah, there is the dread; yet very dread should help my cause, for in it is some need of belief. Come, I tell you what I propose: first, that we go off now and see that child in the hospital. Dr. Vincent, of the North Hospital, where the papers say the child is, is friend of mine, and I think of yours since you were in class at Amsterdam. He will let two scientists see his case, if he will not let two friends. We shall tell him nothing, but only that we wish to learn. And then-"
"And then?" He took a key from his pocket and held it up. "And then we spend the night, you and I, in the church-yard where Lucy lies. This is the key that lock the tomb. I had it from the coffin-man to give to Arthur." My heart sank within me, for I felt that there was some fearful ordeal before us. I could do nothing, however, so I plucked up what heart I could and said that we had better hasten, as the afternoon was passing.
We found the child awake. It had had a sleep and taken some food, and altogether was going on well. Dr. Vincent took the bandage from its throat, and showed us the punctures. There was no mistaking the similarity to those which had been on Lucy's throat. They were smaller, and the edges looked fresher; that was all. We asked Vincent to what he attributed them, and he replied that it must have been a bite of some animal, perhaps a rat; but, for his own part, he was inclined to think that it was one of the bats which are so numerous on the northern heights of London. "Out of so many harmless ones," he said, "there may be sonic wild specimen from the South of a more malignant species. Some sailor may have brought one home, and it managed to escape; or even from the Zoological Gardens a young one may have got loose, or one be bred there from a vampire. These things do occur, you know. Only ten days ago a wolf got out, and was, I believe, traced up in this direction. For a week after, the children were playing nothing but Red Riding Hood on the Heath and in every alley in the place until this 'bloofer lady' scare came along, since when it has been quite a gala-time with them. Even this poor little mite, when he woke up to-day, asked the nurse if he might go away. When she asked him why he wanted to go, he said he wanted to play with the 'bloofer lady.'"
"I hope," said Van Helsing, "that when you are sending the child home you will caution its parents to keep strict watch over it. These fancies to stray are most dangerous; and if the child were to remain out another night, it would probably be fatal. But in any case I suppose you will not let it away for some days?"
"Certainly not, not for a week at least; longer if the wound is not healed."
Our visit to the hospital took more time than we had reckoned on, and the sun had dipped before we came out. When Van Helsing saw how dark it was, he said:-
"There is no hurry. It is more late than I thought. Come, let us seek somewhere that we may eat, and then we shall go on our way."
We dined at "Jack Straw's Castle" along with a little crowd of bicyclists and others who were genially noisy. About ten o'clock we started from the inn. It was then very dark, and the scattered lamps made the darkness greater when we were once outside their individual radius. The Professor had evidently noted the road we were to go, for he went on unhesitatingly; but, as for me, I was in quite a mix-up as to locality. As we went further, we met fewer and fewer people, till at last we were somewhat surprised when we met even the patrol of horse police going their usual suburban round. At last we reached the wall of the church-yard, which we climbed over. With some little difficulty- for it was very dark, and the whole place seemed so strange to us- we found the Westenra tomb. The Professor took the key, opened the creaky door, and standing back, politely, but quite unconsciously, motioned me to precede him. There was a delicious irony in the offer, in the courtliness of giving preference on such a ghastly occasion. My companion followed me quickly, and cautiously drew the door to, after carefully ascertaining that the lock was a falling, and not a spring, one. In the latter case we should have been in a bad plight. Then he fumbled in his bag, and taking out a match-box and a piece of candle, proceeded to make a light. The tomb in the day-time, and when wreathed with fresh flowers, had looked grim and gruesome enough; but now, some days afterwards, when the flowers hung lank and dead, their whites turning to rust and their greens to browns; when the spider and the beetle had resumed their accustomed dominance; when time-discoloured stone, and dust-encrusted mortar, and rusty, dank iron, and tarnished brass, and clouded silver-plating gave back the feeble glimmer of a candle, the effect was more miserable and sordid than could have been imagined It conveyed irresistibly the idea that life- animal life- was not the only thing which could pass away.
Van Helsing went about his work systematically. Holding his candle so that he could read the coffin plates, and so holding it that the sperm dropped in white patches which congealed as they touched the metal, he made assurance of Lucy's coffin. Another search in his bag, and he took out a turnscrew.
"What are you going to do?" I asked.
"To open the coffin. You shall yet be convinced." Straightway he began taking out the screws, and finally lifted off the lid, showing the casing of lead beneath. The sight was almost too much for me. It seemed to be as much an affront to the dead as it would have been to have stripped off her clothing in her sleep whilst living; I actually took hold of his hand to stop him. He only said: "You shall see," and again fumbling in his bag, took out a tiny fret-saw. Striking the turnscrew through the lead with a swift downward stab, which made me wince, he made a small hole, which was, however, big enough to admit the point of the saw. I had expected a rush of gas from the week-old corpse. We doctors, who have had to study our dangers, have to become accustomed to such things, and I drew back towards the door. But the Professor never stopped for a moment; he sawed down a couple of feet along one side of the lead coffin, and then across, and down the other side. Taking the edge of the loose flange, he bent it back towards the foot of the coffin, and holding up the candle into the aperture, motioned to me to look.
I drew near and looked. The coffin was empty.
It was certainly a surprise to me, and gave me a considerable shock, but Van Helsing was unmoved. He was now more sure than ever of his ground, and so emboldened to proceed in his task. "Are you satisfied now, friend John?" he asked.
I felt all the dogged argumentativeness of my nature awake within me as I answered him:-
"I am satisfied that Lucy's body is not in that coffin; but that only proves one thing."
"And what is that, friend John?"
"That it is not there."
"That is good logic," he said, "so far as it goes. But how do you- how can you- account for it not being there?"
"Perhaps a body-snatcher," I suggested. "Some of the undertaker's people may have stolen it." I felt that I was speaking folly, and yet it was the only real cause which I could suggest. The Professor sighed. "Ah well!" he said, "we must have more proof. Come with me."
He put on the coffin-lid again, gathered up all his things and placed them in the bag, blew out the light, and placed the candle also in the bag. We opened the door, and went out. Behind us he closed the door and locked it. He handed me the key, saying: "Will you keep it? You had better be assured." I laughed- it was not a very cheerful laugh, I am bound to say- as I motioned him to keep it. "A key is nothing," I said; "there may be duplicates; and anyhow it is not difficult to pick a lock of that kind." He said nothing, but put the key in his pocket. Then he told me to watch at one side of the churchyard whilst he would watch at the other. I took up my place behind a yew-tree, and I saw his dark figure move until the intervening headstones and trees hid it from my sight.
It was a lonely vigil. Just after I had taken my place I heard a distant clock strike twelve, and in time came one and two. I was chilled and unnerved, and angry with the Professor for taking me on such an errand and with myself for coming. I was too cold and too sleepy to be keenly observant, and not sleepy enough to betray my trust; so altogether I had a dreary, miserable time.
Suddenly, as I turned round, I thought I saw something like a white streak, moving between two dark yew-trees at the side of the churchyard farthest from the tomb; at the same time a dark mass moved from the Professor's side of the ground, and hurriedly went towards it. Then I too moved; but I had to go round headstones and railed-off tombs, and I stumbled over graves. The sky was overcast, and somewhere far off an early cock crew. A little way off, beyond a line of scattered juniper-trees, which marked the pathway to the church, a white, dim figure flitted in the direction of the tomb. The tomb itself was hidden by trees, and I could not see where the figure disappeared. I heard the rustle of actual movement where I had first seen the white figure, and coming over, found the Professor holding in his arms a tiny child. When he saw me he held it out to me, and said:-
"Are you satisfied now?"
"No," I said, in a way that I felt was aggressive.
"Do you not see the child?"
"Yes, it is a child, but who brought it here? And is it wounded?" I asked.
"We shall see," said the Professor, and with one impulse we took our way out of the churchyard, he carrying the sleeping child.
When we had got some little distance away, we went into a clump of trees, and struck a match, and looked at the child's throat. It was without a scratch or scar of any kind.
"Was I right?" I asked triumphantly.
"We were just in time," said the Professor thankfully.
We had now to decide what we were to do with the child, and so consulted about it. If we were to take it to a police-station we should have to give some account of our movements during the night; at least, we should have had to make some statement as to how we had come to find the child. So finally we decided that we would take it to the Heath, and when we heard a policeman coming, would leave it where he could not fail to find it; we would then seek our way home as quickly as we could. All fell out well. At the edge of Hampstead Heath we heard a policeman's heavy tramp, and laying the child on the pathway, we waited and watched until he saw it as he flashed his lantern to and fro. We heard his exclamation of astonishment, and then we went away silently. By good chance we got a cab near the "Spaniards," and drove to town.
I cannot sleep, so I make this entry. But I must try to get a few hours' sleep, as Van Helsing is to call for me at noon. He insists that I shall go with him on another expedition.
27 September- It was two o'clock before we found a suitable opportunity for our attempt. The funeral held at noon was all completed, and the last stragglers of the mourners had taken themselves lazily away, when, looking carefully from behind a clump of alder-trees, we saw the sexton lock the gate after him. We knew then that we were safe till morning did we desire it; but the Professor told me that we should not want more than an hour at most. Again I felt that horrid sense of the reality of things, in which any effort of imagination seemed out of place; and I realised distinctly the perils of the law which we were incurring in our unhallowed work. Besides, I felt it was all so useless. Outrageous as it was to open a leaden coffin, to see if a woman dead nearly a week were really dead, it now seemed the height of folly to open the tomb again, when we knew, from the evidence of our own eyesight, that the coffin was empty. I shrugged my shoulders, however, and rested silent, for Van Helsing had a way of going on his own road, no matter who remonstrated. He took the key, opened the vault, and again courteously motioned me to precede. The place was not so gruesome as last night, but oh, how unutterably mean-looking when the sunshine streamed in. Van Helsing walked over to Lucy's coffin, and I followed. He bent over and again forced back the leaden flange; and then a shock of surprise and dismay shot through me.
There lay Lucy, seemingly just as we had seen her the night before her funeral. She was, if possible, more radiantly beautiful than ever; and I could not believe that she was dead. The lips were red, nay redder than before; and on the cheeks was a delicate bloom.
"Is this a juggle?" I said to him.
"Are you convinced now?" said the Professor in response, and as he spoke he put over his hand, and in a way that made me shudder, pulled back the dead lips and showed the white teeth.
"See," he went on, "see, they are even sharper than before. With this and this"- and he touched one of the canine teeth and that below it- "the little children can be bitten. Are you of belief now, friend John?" Once more, argumentative hostility woke within me. I could not accept such an overwhelming idea as he suggested; so, with an attempt to argue of which I was even at the moment ashamed, I said:-
"She may have been placed here since last night."
"Indeed? That is so, and by whom?"
"I do not know. Some one has done it."
"And yet she has been dead one week. Most peoples in that time would not look so." I had no answer for this, so was silent. Van Helsing did not seem to notice my silence; at any rate, he showed neither chagrin nor triumph. He was looking intently at the face of the dead woman, raising the eyelids and looking at the eyes, and once more opening the lips and examining the teeth. Then he turned to me and said:-
"Here, there is one thing which is different from all recorded; here is some dual life that is not as the common. She was bitten by the vampire when she was in a trance, sleep-walking- oh, you start; you do not know that, friend John, but you shall know it all later- and in trance could he best come to take more blood. In trance she died, and in trance she is Un-Dead, too. So it is that she differ from all other. Usually when the Un-Dead sleep at home"- as he spoke he made a comprehensive sweep of his arm to designate what to a vampire was "home"- "their face show what they are, but this so sweet that was when she not Un-Dead she go back to the nothings of the common dead. There is no malign there, see, and so it make hard that I must kill her in her sleep." This turned my blood cold, and it began to dawn upon me that I was accepting Van Helsing's theories; but if she were really dead, what was there of terror in the idea of killing her? He looked up at me, and evidently saw the change in my face, for he said almost joyously:-
"Ah, you believe now?"
I answered; "Do not press me too hard all at once. I am willing to accept. How will you do this bloody work?"
"I shall cut off her head and fill her mouth with garlic, and I shall drive a stake through her body." It made me shudder to think of so mutilating the body of the woman whom I had loved. And yet the feeling was not so strong as I had expected. I was, in fact, beginning to shudder at the presence of this being, this Un-Dead, as Van Helsing called it, and to loathe it. Is it possible that love is all subjective, or all objective?
I waited a considerable time for Van Helsing to begin, but he stood as if wrapped in thought. Presently he closed the catch of his bag with a snap, and said:-
"I have been thinking, and have made up my mind as to what is best. If I did simply follow my inclining I would do now, at this moment, what is to be done; but there are other things to follow, and things that are thousand times more difficult in that them we do not know. This is simple. She have yet no life taken, though that is of time; and to act now would be to take danger from her for ever. But then we may have to want Arthur, and how shall we tell him of this? If you, who saw the wounds on Lucy's throat, and saw the wounds so similar on the child's at the hospital; if you, who saw the coffin empty last night and full to-day with a woman who have not change only to be more rose and more beautiful in a whole week, after she die- if you know of this and know of the white figure last night that brought the child to the churchyard, and yet of your own senses you did not believe, how, then, can I expect Arthur, who know none of those things, to believe? He doubted me when I took him from her kiss when she was dying. I know he has forgiven me because in some mistaken idea I have done things that prevent him say good-bye as he ought; and he may think that in some more mistaken idea this woman was buried alive; and that in most mistake of all we have killed her. He will then argue back that it is we, mistaken ones, that have killed her by our ideas; and so he will be much unhappy always. Yet he never can be sure; and that is the worst of all. And he will sometimes think that she he loved was buried alive, and that will paint his dreams with horrors of what she must have suffered; and again, he will think that we may be right, and that his so beloved was, after all, an Un-Dead. No! I told him once, and since then I learn much. Now, since I know it is all true, a hundred thousand times more do I know that he must pass through the bitter waters to reach the sweet. He, poor fellow, must have one hour that will make the very face of heaven grow black to him; then we can act for good all round and send him peace. My mind is made up. Let us go. You return home for to-night to your asylum, and see that all be well. As for me, I shall spend the night here in this churchyard in my own way. To-morrow night you will come to me to the Berkeley Hotel at ten of the clock. I shall send for Arthur to come too, and also that so fine young man of America that gave his blood. Later we shall all have work to do. I come with you so far as Piccadilly and there dine, for I must be back here before the sun set."
So we locked the tomb and came away, and got over the wall of the churchyard, which was not much of a task, and drove back to Piccadilly.

Note left by Van Helsing in his portmanteau, Berkeley
Hotel, directed to John Seward, M.D.
(Not delivered.)
"27 September.
"Friend John,-
"I write this in case anything should happen. I go alone to watch in that churchyard. It pleases me that the Un-Dead, Miss Lucy, shall not leave to-night, that so on the morrow night she may be more eager. Therefore I shall fix some things she like not- garlic and a crucifix- and so seal up the door of the tomb. She is young as Un-Dead, and will heed. Moreover, these are only to prevent her coming out; they may not prevail on her wanting to get in; for then the Un-Dead is desperate, and must find the line of least resistance, whatsoever it may be. I shall be at hand all the night from sunset till after the sunrise, and if there be aught that may be learned I shall learn it. For Miss Lucy, or from her, I have no fear; but that other to whom is there that she is Un-Dead, he have now the power to seek her tomb and find shelter. He is cunning, as I know from Mr. Jonathan and from the way that all along he have fooled us when he played with us for Miss Lucy's life, and we lost; and in many ways the Un-Dead are strong. He have always the strength in his hand of twenty men; even we four who gave our strength to Miss Lucy it also is all to him. Besides, he can summon his wolf and I know not what. So if it be that he come thither on this night he shall find me; but none other shall- until it be too late. But it may be that he will not attempt the place. There is no reason why he should; his hunting ground is more full of game than the churchyard where the Un-Dead woman sleep, and one old man watch.
"Therefore I write this in case... Take the papers that are with this, the diaries of Harker and the rest, and read them, and then find this great Un-Dead, and cut off his head and burn his heart or drive a stake through it, so that the world may rest from him.
"If it be so, farewell.
"Van Helsing."

Dr. Seward's Diary.
28 September.- It is wonderful what a good night's sleep will do for one. Yesterday I was almost willing to accept Van Helsing's monstrous ideas; but now they seem to start out lurid before me as outrages on common sense. I have no doubt that he believes it all. I wonder if his mind can have become in any way unhinged. Surely there must be some rational explanation of all these mysterious things. Is it possible that the Professor can have done it himself? He is so abnormally clever that if he went off his head he would carry out his intent with regard to some fixed idea in a wonderful way. I am loath to think it, and indeed it would be almost as great a marvel as the other to find that Van Helsing was mad; but anyhow I shall watch him carefully. I may get some light on the mystery.
29 September, morning... Last night, at a little before ten o'clock, Arthur and Quincey came into Van Helsing's room; he told us all that he wanted us to do, but especially addressing himself to Arthur, as if all our wills were centered in his. He began by saying that he hoped we would all come with him too, "for," he said, "there is a grave duty to be done there. You were doubtless surprised at my letter?" This query was directly addressed to Lord Godalming.
"I was. It rather upset me for a bit. There has been so much trouble around my house of late that I could do without any more. I have been curious, too, as to what you mean. Quincey and I talked it over; but the more we talked, the more puzzled we got, till now I can say for myself that I'm about up a tree as to any meaning about anything."
"Me, too," said Quincey Morris laconically.
"Oh," said the Professor, "then you are nearer the beginning, both of you, than friend John here, who has to go a long way back before he can even get so far as to begin."
It was evident that he recognised my return to my old doubting frame of mind without my saying a word. Then, turning to the other two, he said with intense gravity:-
"I want your permission to do what I think good this night. It is, I know, much to ask; and when you know what it is I propose to do you will know, and only then, how much. Therefore may I ask that you promise me in the dark, so that afterwards, though you may be angry with me for a time- I must not disguise from myself the possibility that such may be- you shall not blame yourselves for anything."
"That's frank anyhow," broke in Quincey. "I'll answer for the Professor. I don't quite see his drift, but I swear he's honest; and that's good enough for me."
"I thank you, sir," said Van Helsing proudly. "I have done myself the honour of counting you one trusting friend, and such endorsement is dear to me." He held out a hand, which Quincey took.
Then Arthur spoke out:-
"Dr. Van Helsing, I don't quite like to 'buy a pig in a poke,' as they say in Scotland, and if it be anything in which my honour as a gentleman or my faith as a Christian is concerned, I cannot make such a promise. If you can assure me that what you intend does not violate either of these two, then I give my consent at once; though, for the life of me, I cannot understand what you are driving at."
"I accept your limitation," said Van Helsing, "and all I ask of you is that if you feel it necessary to condemn any act of mine, you will first consider it well and be satisfied that it does not violate your reservations."
"Agreed!" said Arthur; "that is only fair. And now that the pourparlers are over, may I ask what it is we are to do?"
"I want you to come with me, and to come in secret, to the churchyard at Kingstead."
Arthur's face fell as he said in an amazed sort of way:-
"Where poor Lucy is buried?" The Professor bowed. Arthur went on: "And when there?"
"To enter the tomb!" Arthur stood up.
"Professor, are you in earnest; or it is some monstrous joke? Pardon me, I see that you are in earnest." He sat down again, but I could see that he sat firmly and proudly, as one who is on his dignity. There was silence until he asked again:-
"And when in the tomb?"
"To open the coffin."
"This is too much!" he said, angrily rising again. "I am willing to be patient in all things that are reasonable; but in this- this
desecration of the grave- of one who-" He fairly choked with indignation. The Professor looked pityingly at him.
"If I could spare you one pang, my poor friend," he said, "God knows I would. But this night our feet must tread in thorny paths; or later, and for ever, the feet you love must walk in paths of flame!"
Arthur looked up with set, white face and said:-
"Take care, sir, take care!"
"Would it not be well to hear what I have to say?" said Van Helsing. "And then you will at least know the limit of my purpose. Shall I go on?"
"That's fair enough," broke in Morris.
After a pause Van Helsing went on, evidently with an effort:-
"Miss Lucy is dead; is it not so? Yes! Then there can be no wrong to her. But if she be not dead-"
Arthur jumped to his feet.
"Good God!" he cried. "What do you mean? Has there been any mistake; has she been buried alive?" He groaned in anguish that not even hope could soften.
"I did not say she was alive, my child; I did not think it. I go no further than to say that she might be Un-Dead."
"Un-Dead! Not alive! What do you mean? Is this all a nightmare, or what is it?"
"There are mysteries which men can only guess at, which age by age they may solve only in part. Believe me, we are now on the verge of one. But I have not done. May I cut off the head of dead Miss Lucy?"
"Heavens and earth, no!" cried Arthur in a storm of passion. "Not for the wide world will I consent to any mutilation of her dead body. Dr. Van Helsing, you try me too far. What have I done to you that you should torture me so? What did that poor, sweet girl do that you should want to cast such dishonour on her grave? Are you mad that speak such things, or am I mad that listen to them? Don't dare to think more of such a desecration; I shall not give my consent to anything you do. I have a duty to do in protecting her grave from outrage; and, by God, I shall do it!"
Van Helsing rose up from where he had all the time been seated, and said, gravely and sternly:-
"My Lord Godalming, I, too, have a duty to do, a duty to others, a duty to you, a duty to the dead; and, by God, I shall do it! All I ask you now is that you come with me, that you look and listen; and if when later I make the same request you do not be more eager for its fulfilment even than I am, then- then I shall do my duty, whatever it may seem to me. And then, to follow of your Lordship's wishes, I shall hold myself at your disposal to render an account to you, when and where you will." His voice broke a little, and he went on with a voice full of pity:-
"But, I beseech you, do not go forth in anger with me. In a long life of acts which were often not pleasant to do, and which
sometimes did wring my heart, I have never had so heavy a task as now. Believe me that if the time comes for you to change your mind towards me, one look from you will wipe away all this so sad hour, for I would do what a man can to save you from sorrow. Just think. For why should I give myself so much of labour and so much of sorrow? I have come here from my own land to do what I can of good; at the first to please my friend John, and then to help a sweet young lady, whom, too, I came to love. For her- I am ashamed to say so much, but I say it in kindness- I gave what you gave; the blood of my veins; I gave it, I, who was not, like you, her lover, but only her physician and her friend. I gave to her my nights and days- before death, after death; and if my death can do her good even now, when she is the dead Un-Dead, she shall have it freely." He said this with a very grave, sweet pride, and Arthur was much affected by it. He took the old man's hand and said in a broken voice:-
"Oh, it is hard to think of it, and I cannot understand; but at least I shall go with you and wait."

_________________
The Flesh of Fallen Angels! Come to me all! Asteroth,

Beelzebub, Asmodeus, Bapholada, Lucifer, Loki, Satan,

Cthulhu, Lilith, Della! Blood, to you all!

I'm the wolf, yeah!
I am the wolf! It's close, it's coming. You have come.
The witness to the end, of time. It's now! I will rise to
her side! I don't need the words!
I'm beyond the words!
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me and distance seemed endless, and my knees trembled and my breath came laboured as I toiled up the endless steps to the abbey. I must have gone fast, and yet it seemed to me as if my feet were weighted with lead, and as though every joint in my body were rusty. When I got almost to the top I could see the seat and the white figure, for I was now close enough to distinguish it even through the spells of shadow. There was undoubtedly something, long and black, bending over the half-reclining white figure. I called in fright, "Lucy! Lucy!" and something raised a head, and from where I was I could see a white face and red, gleaming eyes. Lucy did not answer, and I ran on to the entrance of the churchyard. As I entered, the church was between me and the seat, and for a minute or so I lost sight of her. When I came in view again the cloud had passed, and the moonlight struck so brilliantly that I could see Lucy half reclining with her head lying over the back of the seat. She was quite alone, and there was not a sign of any living thing about.
When I bent over her I could see that she was still asleep. Her lips were parted, and she was breathing- not softly, as usual with her, but in long, heavy gasps, as though striving to get her lungs full at every breath. As I came close, she put up her hand in her sleep and pulled the collar of her nightdress close around her throat. Whilst she did so there came a little shudder through her, as though she felt the cold. I flung the warm shawl over her, and drew the edges tight round her neck, for I dreaded lest she should get some deadly chill from the night air, unclad as she was I feared to wake her all at once, so, in order to have my hands free that I might help her. I fastened the shawl at her throat with a big safety-pin; but I must have been clumsy in my anxiety and pinched or pricked her with it, for by-and-by, when her breathing became quieter, she put her hand to her throat again and moaned. When I had her carefully wrapped up I put my shoes on her feet, and then began very gently to wake her. At first she did not respond; but gradually she became more and more uneasy in her sleep, moaning and sighing occasionally. At last, as time was passing fast, and, for many other reasons, I wished to get her home at once, I shook her more forcibly, till finally she opened her eyes and awoke. She did not seem surprised to see me, as, of course, she did not realise all at once where she was. Lucy always wakes prettily, and even at such a time, when her body must have been chilled with cold, and her mind somewhat appalled at waking unclad in a churchyard at night, she did not lose her grace. She trembled a little, and clung to me; when I told her to come at once with me home she rose without a word, with the obedience of a child. As we passed along, the gravel hurt my feet, and Lucy noticed me wince. She stopped and wanted to insist upon my taking my shoes; but I would not. However, when we got to the pathway outside the churchyard, where there was a puddle of water remaining from the storm, I daubed my feet with mud, using each foot in turn on the other, so that as we went home no one, in case we should meet any one, should notice my bare feet.
Fortune favoured us, and we got home without meeting a soul. Once we saw a man, who seemed not quite sober, passing along a street in front of us; but we hid in a door till he had disappeared up an opening such as there are here, steep little closes, or "wynds," as they call them in Scotland. My heart beat so loud all the time that sometimes I thought I should faint. I was filled with anxiety about Lucy, not only for her health, lest she should suffer from the exposure, but for her reputation in case the story should get wind. When we got in, and had washed our feet, and had said a prayer of thankfulness together, I tucked her into bed. Before falling asleep she asked- even implored- me not to say a word to any one, even her mother, about her sleep-walking adventure. I hesitated at first to promise; but on thinking of the state of her mother's health, and how the knowledge of such a thing would fret her, and thinking, too, of how such a story might become distorted- may, infallibly would- in case it should leak out, I thought it wiser to do so. I hope I did right. I have locked the door, and the key is tied to my wrist, so perhaps I shall not be again disturbed. Lucy is sleeping soundly; the reflex of the dawn is high and far over the sea...
Same day, noon.- All goes well. Lucy slept till I woke her, and seemed not to have even changed her side. The adventure of the night does not seem to have harmed her; on the contrary, it has benefited her, for she looks better this morning than she has done for weeks. I was sorry to notice that my clumsiness with the safety-pin hurt her. Indeed, it might have been serious, for the skin of her throat was pierced. I must have pinched up a piece of loose skin and have transfixed it, for there are two little red points like pin-pricks, and on the band of her nightdress was a drop of blood. When I apologised and was concerned about it, she laughed and petted me, and said she did not even feel it. Fortunately it cannot leave a scar, as it is so tiny.
Same day, night.- We passed a happy day. The air was clear, and the sun bright, and there was a cool breeze. We took our lunch to Mulgrave Woods, Mrs. Westenra driving by the road and Lucy and I walking by the cliff-path and joining her at the gate. I felt a little sad myself, for I could not but feel how absolutely happy it would have been had Jonathan been with me. But there! I must only be patient. In the evening we strolled in the Casino Terrace, and heard some good music by Spohr and Mackenzie, and went to bed early. Lucy seems more restful than she has been for some time, and fell asleep at once. I shall lock the door and secure the key the same as before, though I do not expect any trouble to-night.
12 August.- My expectations were wrong, for twice during the night I was wakened by Lucy trying to get out. She seemed, even in her sleep, to be a little impatient at finding the door shut, and went back to bed under a sort of protest. I woke with the dawn, and heard the birds chirping outside of the window. Lucy woke, too, and, I was glad to see, was even better than on the previous morning. All her old gaiety of manner seemed to have come back, and she came and snuggled in beside me, and told me all about Arthur. I told her how anxious I was about Jonathan, and then she tried to comfort me. Well, she succeeded somewhat, for, though sympathy can't alter facts, it can help to make them more bearable.
13 August.- Another quiet day, and to bed with the key on my wrist as before. Again I awoke in the night, and found Lucy sitting up in bed, still asleep, pointing to the window. I got up quietly, and pulling aside the blind, looked out. It was brilliant moonlight, and the soft effect of the light over the sea and sky- merged together in one great, silent mystery- was beautiful beyond words. Between me and the moonlight flitted a great bat, coming and going in great, whirling circles. Once or twice it came quite close, but was, I suppose, frightened at seeing me, and flitted away across the harbour towards the abbey. When I came back from the window Lucy had lain down again, and was sleeping peacefully. She did not stir again all night.
14 August.- On the East Cliff, reading and writing all day. Lucy seems to have become as much in love with the spot as I am, and it is hard to get her away from it when it is time to come home for lunch or tea or dinner. This afternoon she made a funny remark. We were coming home for dinner, and had come to the top of the steps up from the West Pier and stopped to look at the view, as we generally do. The setting sun, low down in the sky, was just dropping behind Kettleness; the red light was thrown over on the East Cliff and the old abbey, and seemed to bathe everything in a beautiful rosy glow. We were silent for a while, and suddenly Lucy murmured as if to herself:-
"His red eyes again! They are just the same." It was such an odd expression, coming apropos of nothing, that it quite startled me. I slewed round a little, so as to see Lucy well without seeming to stare at her, and saw that she was in a half-dreamy state, with an odd look on her face that I could not quite make out; so I said nothing, but followed her eyes. She appeared to be looking over at our own seat, whereon was a dark figure seated alone. I was a little startled myself, for it seemed for an instant as if the stranger had great eyes like burning flames; but a second look dispelled the illusion. The red sunlight was shining on the windows of St. Mary's Church behind our seat, and as the sun dipped there was just sufficient change in the refraction and reflection to make it appear as if the light moved. I called Lucy's attention to the peculiar effect, and she became herself with a start, but she looked sad all the same; it may have been that she was thinking of that terrible night up there. We never refer to it; so I said nothing, and we went home to dinner. Lucy had a headache and went early to bed. I saw her asleep, and went out for a little stroll myself, I walked along the cliffs to the westward, and was full of sweet sadness, for I was thinking of Jonathan. When coming home- it was then bright moonlight, so bright that, though the front of our part of the Crescent was in shadow, everything could be well seen- I threw a glance up at our window, and saw Lucy's head leaning out. I thought that perhaps she was looking out for me, so I opened my handkerchief and waved it. She did not notice or make any movement whatever. Just then, the moonlight crept round an angle of the building, and the light fell on the window. There distinctly was Lucy with her head lying up against the side of the window-sill and her eyes shut. She was fast asleep, and by her, seated on the window-sill, was something that looked like a good-sized bird. I was afraid she might get a chill, so I ran upstairs, but as I came into the room she was moving back to her bed, fast asleep, and breathing heavily; she was holding her hand to her throat, as though to protect it from cold.
I did not wake her, but tucked her up warmly; I have taken care that the door is locked and the window securely fastened.
She looks so sweet as she sleeps; but she is paler than is her wont, and there is a drawn, haggard look under her eyes which I do not like. I fear she is fretting about something. I wish I could find out what it is.
15 August.- Rose later than usual. Lucy was languid and tired, and slept on after we had been called. We had a happy surprise at breakfast. Arthur's father is better, and wants the marriage to come off soon. Lucy is full of quiet joy, and her mother is glad and sorry at once. Later on in the day she told me the cause. She is grieved to lose Lucy as her very own, but she is rejoiced that she is soon to have some one to protect her. Poor dear, sweet lady! She confided to me that she has got her death-warrant. She has not told Lucy, and made me promise secrecy; her doctor told her that within a few months, at most, she must die, for her heart is weakening. At any time, even now, a sudden shock would be almost sure to kill her. Ah, we were wise to keep from her the affair of the dreadful night of Lucy's sleep-walking.
17 August.- No diary for two whole days. I have not had the heart to write. Some sort of shadowy pall seems to be coming over our happiness. No news from Jonathan, and Lucy seems to be growing weaker, whilst her mother's hours are numbering to a close. I do not understand Lucy's fading away as she is doing. She eats well and sleeps well, and enjoys the fresh air; but all the time the roses in her cheeks are fading, and she gets weaker and more languid day by day; at night I hear her gasping as if for air. I keep the key of our door always fastened to my wrist at night, but she gets up and walks about the room, and sits at the open window. Last night I found her leaning out when I woke up, and when I tried to wake her I could not; she was in a faint. When I managed to restore her she was as weak as water, and cried silently between long, painful struggles for breath. When I asked her how she came to be at the window she shook her head and turned away. I trust her feeling ill may not be from that unlucky prick of the safety pin. I looked at her throat just now as she lay asleep, and the tiny wounds seem not to have healed. They are still open, and, if anything, larger than before, and the edges of them are faintly white. They are like little white dots with red centres. Unless they heal within a day or two, I shall insist on the doctor seeing about them.

Letter, Samuel F. Billington & Son, Solicitors, Whitby, to
Messrs. Carter, Paterson & Co., London.
"17 August.
"Dear Sirs,-
"Herewith please receive invoice of goods sent by Great Northern Railway. Same are to be delivered at Carfax, near Purfleet, immediately on receipt at goods station King's Cross. The house is at present empty, but enclosed please find keys, all of which are labelled.
"You will please deposit the boxes, fifty in number, which form the consignment, in the partially ruined building forming part of the house and marked 'A' on rough diagram enclosed. Your agent will easily recognise the locality, as it is the ancient chapel of the mansion. The goods leave by the train at 9:30 to-night, and will be due at King's Cross at 4:30 to-morrow afternoon. As our client wishes the delivery made as soon as possible, we shall be obliged by your having teams ready at King's Cross at the time named and forthwith conveying the goods to destination. In order to obviate any delays possible through any routine requirements as to payment in your departments, we enclose cheque herewith for ten pounds (L10), receipt of which please acknowledge. Should the charge be less than this amount, you can return balance; if greater, we shall at once send cheque for difference on hearing from you. You are to leave the keys on coming away in the main hall of the house, where the proprietor may get them on his entering the house by means of his duplicate key.
"Pray do not take us as exceeding the bounds of business courtesy in pressing you in all ways to use the utmost expedition.
"We are, dear Sirs,
"Faithfully yours,
"Samuel F. Billington & Son."

Letter, Messrs. Carter, Paterson & Co., London, to Messrs.
Billington & Son, Whitby.
"21 August.
"Dear Sirs,-
"We beg to acknowledge 10 pounds (L10) received and to return cheque L1 17s. 9d., amount of overplus, as shown in receipted account herewith. Goods are delivered in exact accordance with instructions, and keys left in parcel in main hall, as directed.
"We are, dear Sirs,
"Yours respectfully,
"Pro Carter, Paterson & Co."

18 August.- I am happy to-day, and write sitting on the seat in the churchyard. Lucy is ever so much better. Last night she slept well all night, and did not disturb me once. The roses seem coming back already to her cheeks, though she is still sadly pale and wan-looking. If she were in any way anaemic I could understand it, but she is not. She is in gay spirits and full of life and cheerfulness. All the morbid reticence seems to have passed from her, and she has just reminded me, as if I needed any reminding, of that night, and that it was here, on this very seat, I found her asleep. As he told me she tapped playfully with the heel of her boot on the stone slab and said:-
"My poor little feet didn't make much noise then! I daresay poor old Mr. Swales would have told me that it was because I didn't want to wake up Geordie." As she was in such a communicative humour, I asked her if she had dreamed at all that night. Before she answered, that sweet, puckered look came into her forehead, which Arthur- I call him Arthur from her habit- says he loves; and, indeed, I don't wonder that he does. Then she went on in a half-dreaming kind of way, as if trying to recall it to herself:-
"I didn't quite dream; but it all seemed to be real. I only wanted to be here in this spot- I don't know why, for I was afraid of something- I don't know what. I remember though I suppose I was asleep, passing through the streets and over the bridge. A fish leaped as I went by, and I leaned over to look at it, and I heard a lot of dogs howling- the whole town seemed as if it must be full of dogs all howling at once- as I went up the steps. Then I had a vague memory of something long and dark with red eyes, just as we saw in the sunset, and something very sweet and very bitter all around me at once; and then I seemed sinking into deep green water, and there was a singing in my ears, as I have heard there is to drowning men; and then everything seemed passing away from me; my soul seemed to go out from my body and float about the air. I seem to remember that once the West Lighthouse was right under me, and then there was a sort of agonising feeling, as if I were in an earthquake, and I came back and found you shaking my body. I saw you do it before I felt you."
Then she began to laugh. It seemed a little uncanny to me, and I listened to her breathlessly. I did not quite like it, and thought it better not to keep her mind on the subject, so we drifted on to other subjects, and Lucy was like her old self again. When we got home the fresh breeze had braced her up, and her pale cheeks were really more rosy. Her mother rejoiced when she saw her, and we all spent a very happy evening together.
19 August.- Joy, joy, joy! although not all joy. At last, news of Jonathan. The dear fellow has been ill; that is why he did not write. I am not afraid to think it or say it, now that I know. Mr. Hawkins sent me on the letter, and wrote himself, oh, so kindly. I am to leave in the morning and go over to Jonathan, and to help to nurse him if necessary, and to bring him home. Mr. Hawkins says it would not be a bad thing if we were to be married out there. I have cried over the good Sister's letter till I can feel it wet against my bosom, where it lies. It is of Jonathan, and must be next my heart, for he is in my heart. My journey is all mapped out, and my luggage ready. I am only taking one change of dress; Lucy All bring my trunk to London and keep it till I send for it, for it may be that... I must write no more; I must keep it to say to Jonathan, my husband. The letter that he has seen and touched must comfort me till we meet.

Letter, Sister Agatha, Hospital of SL Joseph and Ste. Mary,
Buda-Pesth, to Miss Wilhelmina Murray.
"12 August.
"Dear Madam,-
"I write by desire of Mr. Jonathan Harker, who is himself not strong enough to write, though progressing well, thanks to God and St. Joseph and Ste. Mary. He has been under our care for nearly six weeks, suffering from a violent brain fever. He wishes me to convey his love, and to say that by this post I write for him to Mr. Peter Hawkins, Exeter, to say, with his dutiful respects, that he is sorry for his delay, and that all of his work is completed. He will require some few weeks' rest in our sanatorium in the hills, but will then return. He wishes me to say that he has not sufficient money with him, and that he would like to pay for his staying here, so that others who need shall not be wanting for help. "Believe me,
"Yours, with sympathy and all blessings,
"Sister Agatha.
"P.S.- My patient being asleep, I open this to let you know something more. He has told me all about you, and that you are sortly to be his wife. All blessings to you both! He has had some fearful shock- so says our doctor- and in his delirium his ravings have been dreadful; of wolves and poison and blood; of ghosts and demons; and I fear to say of what. Be careful with him always that there may be nothing to excite him of this kind for a long time to come; the traces of such an illness as his do not lightly die away. We should have written long ago, but we knew nothing of his friends, and there was on him nothing that any one could understand. He came in the train from Klausenburg, and the guard was told by the station-master there that he rushed into the station shouting for a ticket for home. Seeing from his violent demeanour that he was English, they gave him a ticket for the furthest station on the way thither that the train reached.
"Be assured that he is well cared for. He has won all hearts by his sweetness and gentleness. He is truly getting on well, and I have no doubt will in a few weeks be all himself But be careful of him for safety's sake. There are, I pray God and St. Joseph and Ste. Mary, many, many, happy years for you both."

Dr. Seward's Diary.
19 August.- Strange and sudden change in Renfield last night. About eight o'clock he began to get excited and to sniff about as a dog does when setting. The attendant was struck by his manner, and knowing my interest in him, encouraged him to talk. He is usually respectful to the attendant, and at times servile; but to-night, the man tells me, he was quite haughty. Would not condescend to talk with him at all. All he would say was:-
"I don't want to talk to you: you don't count now; the Master is at hand."
The attendant thinks it is some sudden form of religious mania which has seized him. If so, we must look out for squalls, for a strong man with homicidal and religious mania at once might be dangerous. The combination is a dreadful one. At nine o'clock I visited him myself. His attitude to me was the same as that to the attendant; in his sublime self-feeling the difference between myself and attendant seemed to him as nothing. It looks like religious mania, and he will soon think that he himself is God. These infinitesimal distinctions between man and man are too paltry for an Omnipotent Being. How these madmen give themselves away! The real God taketh heed lest a sparrow fall; but the God created from human vanity sees no difference between an eagle and a sparrow. Oh, if men only knew!
For half an hour or more Renfield kept getting excited in greater and greater degree. I did not pretend to be watching him, but I kept strict observation all the same. All at once that shifty look came into his eyes which we always see when a madman has seized an idea, and with it the shifty movement of the head and back which asylum attendants come to know so well. He became quite quiet, and went and sat on the edge of his bed resignedly, and looked into space with lack-lustre eyes. I thought I would find out if his apathy were real or only assumed, and tried to lead him to talk of his pets, a theme which had never failed to excite his attention. At first he made no reply, but at length said testily:-
"Bother them all! I don't care a pin about them."
"What?" I said. "You don't mean to tell me you don't care about spiders?" (Spiders at present are his hobby, and the note-book is filling up with columns of small figures.) To this he answered enigmatically:-
"The bride-maidens rejoice the eyes that wait the coming of the bride; but when the bride draweth nigh, then the maidens shine not to the eyes that are filled."
He would not explain himself, but remained obstinately seated on his bed all the time I remained with him.
I am weary to-night and low in spirits. I cannot but think of Lucy, and how different things might have been. If I don't sleep at once, chloral, the modern Morpheus- C(2) HCL(3)O: H(2)O! I must be careful not to let it grow into a habit. No, I shall take none ton-night! I have thought of Lucy, and I shall not dishonour her by mixing the two. If need be, to-night shall be sleepless.
Later.- Glad I made the resolution; gladder that I kept to it. I had lain tossing about, and had heard the clock strike only twice, when the night-watchman came to me, sent up from the ward, to say that Renfield had escaped. I threw on my clothes and ran down at once; my patient is too dangerous a person to be roaming about. Those ideas of his might work out dangerously with strangers. The attendant was waiting for me. He said he had seen him not ten minutes before, seemingly asleep in his bed, when he had looked through the observation-trap in the door. His attention was called by the sound of the window being wrenched out. He ran back and saw his feet disappear through the window, and had at once sent up for me. He was only in his night-gear, and cannot be far off. The attendant thought it would be more useful to watch where he should go than to follow him, as he might lose sight of him whilst getting out of the building by the door. He is a bulky man, and couldn't get through the window. I am thin, so, with his aid, I got out, but feet foremost, and, as we were only a few feet above ground, landed unhurt. The attendant told me the patient had gone to the left, and had taken a straight line, so I ran as quickly as I could. As I got through the belt of trees I saw a white figure scale the high wall which separates our grounds from those of the deserted house.
I ran back at once, told the watchman to get three or four men immediately and follow me into the grounds of Carfax, in case our friend might be dangerous. I got a ladder myself, and crossing the wall, dropped down on the other side. I could see Renfield's figure just disappearing behind the angle of the house, so I ran after him. On the far side of the house I found him pressed close against the old iron-bound oak door of the chapel. He was talking, apparently to some one, but I was afraid to go near enough to hear what he was saying, lest I might frighten him, and he should run off. Chasing an errant swarm of bees is nothing to following a naked lunatic, when the fit of escaping is upon him! After a few minutes, however, I could see that he did not take note of anything around him, and so ventured to draw nearer to him- the more so as my men had now crossed the wall and were closing him in. I heard him say:-
"I am here to do Your bidding, Master. I am Your slave, and You will reward me, for I shall be faithful. I have worshipped You long and afar off. Now that You are near, I await Your commands, and You will not pass me by, will You, dear Master, in Your distribution of good things?"
He is a selfish old beggar anyhow. He thinks of the loaves and fishes even when he believes he is in a Real Presence. His manias make a startling combination. When we closed in on him he fought like a tiger. He is immensely strong, and he was more like a wild beast than a man. I never saw a lunatic in such a paroxysm of rage before; and I hope I shall not again. It is a mercy that we have found out his strength and his danger in good time. With strength, and determination like his, he might have done wild work before he was caged. He is safe now at any rate. Jack Sheppard himself couldn't get free from the strait-waistcoat that keeps him restrained, and he's chained to the wall in the padded room. His cries are at times awful, but the silences that follow are more deadly still, for he means murder in every turn and movement.
Just now he spoke coherent words for the first time:-
"I shall be patient, Master. It is coming- coming- coming!"
So I took the hint, and came too. I was too excited to sleep, but
this diary has quieted me, and I feel I shall get some sleep to-night.
CHAPTER X.
LETTERS, ETC.- continued.
Letter, Dr. Seward to Hon. Arthur Holmwood.
"6 September.
"My dear Art,-
"My news to-day is not so good. Lucy this morning has gone back a bit. There is, however, one good thing which has arisen from it; Mrs. Westenra was naturally anxious concerning Lucy, and has consulted me professionally about her. I took advantage of the opportunity, and told her that my old master, Van Helsing, the great specialist, was coming to stay with me, and that I would put her in his charge conjointly with myself, so now we can come and go without alarming her unduly, for a shock to her would mean sudden death, and this, in Lucy's weak condition, might be disastrous to her. We are hedged in with difficulties, all of us, my poor old fellow; but, please God, we shall come through them all right. If any need I shall write, so that, if you do not hear from me, take it for granted that I am simply waiting for news. In haste. Yours ever,
"John Seward."

Dr. Seward's Diary.
7 September.- The first thing Van Helsing said to me when we met a Liverpool street was:-
"Have you said anything to our young friend the lover of her?"
"No," I said. "I waited till I had seen you, as I said in my telegram. I wrote him a letter simply telling him that you were
coming, as Miss Westenra was not so well, and that I should let him know if need be."
"Right, my friend," he said, "quite right! Better he not know as yet; perhaps he shall never know. I pray so; but if it be needed, then he shall know all. And, my good friend John, let me caution you. You deal with the madmen. All men are mad in some way or the other; and inasmuch as you deal discreetly with your madmen, so deal with God's madmen, too- the rest of the world. You tell not your madmen what you do nor why you do it; you tell them not what you think. So you shall keep knowledge in its place, where it may rest- where it may gather its kind around it and breed. You and I shall keep as yet what we know here, and here." He touched me on the heart and on the forehead, and then touched himself the same way. "I have for myself thoughts at the present. Later I shall unfold to you."
"Why not now?" I asked. "It may do some good; we may arrive at some decision." He stopped and looked at me, and said:-
"My friend John, when the corn is grown, even before it has ripened- while the milk of its mother-earth is in him, and the sunshine has not yet begun to paint him with his gold, the husbandman he pull the ear and rub him between his rough hands, and blow away the green chaff, and say to you: 'Look! he's good corn; he will make good crop when the time comes.'" I did not see the application, and told him so. For reply he reached over and took my ear in his hand and pulled it playfully, as he used long ago to do at lectures, and said: "The good husbandman tell you so then because he knows, but not till then. But you do not find the good husbandman dig up his planted corn to see if he grow; that is for the children who play at husbandry, and not for those who take it as of the work of their life. See you now, friend John? I have sown my corn, and Nature has her work to do in making it sprout; if he sprout at all, there's some promise; and I wait till the ear begins to swell." He broke off, for he evidently saw that I understood. Then he went on, and very gravely:-
"You were always a careful student, and your case-book was ever more full than the rest. You were only student then; now you are master, and I trust that good habit have not fail. Remember, my friend, that knowledge is stronger than memory, and we should not trust the weaker. Even if you have not kept the good practise, let me tell you that this case of our dear miss is one that may be- mind, I say may be- of such interest to us and others that all the rest may not make him kick the beam, as your peoples say. Take then good note of it. Nothing is too small. I counsel you, put down in record even your doubts and surmises. Hereafter it may be of interest to you to see how true you guess. We learn from failure, not from success!"
When I described Lucy's symptoms- the same as before, but infinitely more marked- he looked very grave, but said nothing. He took with him a bag in which were many instruments and drugs, "the ghastly paraphernalia of our beneficial trade," as he once called, in one of his lectures, the equipment of a professor of the healing craft. When we were shown in, Mrs. Westenra met us. She was alarmed, but not nearly so much as I expected to find her. Nature in one of her beneficent moods has ordained that even death has some antidote to its own terrors. Here, in a case where any shock may prove fatal, matters are so ordered that, from some cause or other, the things not personal- even the terrible change in her daughter to whom she is so attached- do not seem to reach her. It is something like the way Dame Nature gathers round a foreign body an envelope of some insensitive tissue which can protect from evil that which it would otherwise harm by contact. If this be an ordered selfishness, then we should pause before we condemn any one for the vice of egoism, for there may be deeper roots for its causes than we have knowledge of.
I used my knowledge of this phase of spiritual pathology, and laid down a rule that she should not be present with Lucy or think of her illness more than was absolutely required. She assented readily, so readily that I saw again the hand of Nature fighting for life. Van Helsing and I were shown up to Lucy's room. If I was shocked when I saw her yesterday, I was horrified when I saw her to-day. She was ghastly, chalkily pale; the red seemed to have gone even from her lips and gums, and the bones of her face stood out prominently; her breathing was painful to see or hear. Van Helsing's face grew set as marble, and his eyebrows converged till they almost touched over his nose. Lucy lay motionless and did not seem to have strength to speak, so for a while we were all silent. Then Van Helsing beckoned to me, and we went gently out of the room. The instant we had closed the door he stepped quickly along the passage to the next door, which was open. Then he pulled me quickly in with him and closed the door. "My God!" he said; "this is dreadful. There is no time to be lost. She will die for sheer want of blood to keep the heart's action as it should be. There must be transfusion of blood at once. Is it you or me?"
"I am younger and stronger, Professor. It must be me."
"Then get ready at once. I will bring up my bag. I am prepared."
I went downstairs with him, and as we were going there was a knock at the hall-door. When we reached the hall the maid had just opened the door, and Arthur was stepping quickly in. He rushed up to me, saying in an eager whisper:-
"Jack, I was so anxious. I read between the lines of your letter, and have been in an agony. The dad was better, so I ran down here to see for myself. Is not that gentleman Dr. Van Helsing? I am so thankful to you, sir, for coming." When first the Professor's eye had lit upon him he had been angry at my interruption at such a time; but now, as he took in his stalwart proportions and recognised the strong young manhood which seemed to emanate from him, his eyes gleamed. Without a pause he said to him gravely as he held out his hand:-
"Sir, you have come in time. You are the lover of our lear miss. She is bad, very, very bad. Nay, my child, do not go like that." For he suddenly grew pale and sat down in a chair almost fainting. "You are to help her. You can do more than any that live, and your courage is your best help."
"What can I do?" asked Arthur hoarsely. "Tell me, and I shall do it. My life is hers, and I would give the last drop of blood in my body for her." The Professor has a strongly humourous side, and I could from old knowledge detect a trace of its origin in his answer:-
"My young sir, I do not ask so much as that- not the last!"
"What shall I do?" There was fire in his eyes, and his open nostril quivered with intent. Van Helsing slapped him on the shoulder. "Come!" he said. "You are a man, and it is a man we want. You are better than me, better than my friend John." Arthur looked bewildered, and the Professor went on by explaining in a kindly way:-
"Young miss is bad, very bad. She wants blood, and blood she must have or die. My friend John and I have consulted; and we are about to perform what we call transfusion of blood- to transfer from full veins of one to the empty veins which pine for him. John was to give his blood, as he is the more young and strong than me"- here Arthur took my hand and wrung it hard in silence- "but, now you are here, you are more good than us, old or young, who toil much in the world of thought. Our nerves are not so calm and our blood not so bright than yours!" Arthur turned to him and said:-
"If you only knew how gladly I would die for her you would understand-"
He stopped, with a sort of choke in his voice.
"Good boy!" said Van Helsing. "In the not-so-far-off you will be happy that you have done all for her you love. Come now and be silent. You shall kiss her once before it is done, but then you must go; and you must leave at my sign. Say no word to Madame; you know how it is with her! There must be no shock; any knowledge of this would be one. Come!"
We all went up to Lucy's room. Arthur by direction remained outside. Lucy turned her head and looked at us, but said nothing. She was not asleep, but she was simply too weak to make the effort. Her eyes spoke to us; that was all. Van Helsing took some things from his bag and laid them on a little table out of sight. Then he mixed a narcotic, and coming over to the bed, said cheerily:-
"Now, little miss, here is your medicine. Drink it off, like a good child. See, I lift you so that to swallow is easy. Yes." She
had made the effort with success.
It astonished me how long the drug took to act. This, in fact, marked the extent of her weakness. The time seemed endless until sleep began to flicker in her eyelids. At last, however, the narcotic began to manifest its potency; and she fell into a deep sleep. When the Professor was satisfied he called Arthur into the room, and bade him strip off his coat. Then he added: 'You may take that one little kiss whiles I bring over the table. Friend John, help to me!- So neither of us looked whilst he bent over her.
Van Helsing turning to me, said:
"He is so young and strong and of blood so pure that we need not defibrinate it."
Then with swiftness, but with absolute method, Van Helsing performed the operation. As the transfusion went on something like life seemed to come back to poor Lucy's cheeks, and through Arthur's growing pallor the joy of his face seemed absolutely to shine. After a bit I began to grow anxious, for the loss of blood was telling on Arthur, strong man as he was. It gave me an idea of what a terrible strain Lucy's system must have undergone that what weakened Arthur only partially restored her. But the Professor's face was set, and he stood watch in hand and with his eyes fixed now on the patient and now on Arthur. I could hear my own heart beat. Presently he said in a soft voice: "Do not stir an instant. It is enough. You attend him; I will look to her." When all was over I could see how much Arthur was weakened. I dressed the wound and took his arm to bring him away, when Van Helsing spoke without turning round- the man seems to have eyes in the back of his head:-
"The brave lover, I think deserve another kiss, which he shall have presently." And as he had now finished his operation, he adjusted the pillow to the patient's head. As he did so the narrow black velvet band which she seems always to wear round her throat, buckled with an old diamond buckle which her lover had given her, was dragged a little up, and showed a red mark on her throat. Arthur did not notice it, but I could hear the deep hiss of indrawn breath which is one of Van Helsing's ways of betraying emotion. He said nothing at the moment, but turned to me, saying: "Now take down our brave young lover, give him of the port wine, and let him lie down a while. He must then go home and rest, sleep much and eat much, that he may be recruited of what he has so given to his love. He must not stay here. Hold! a moment. I may take it, sir, that you are anxious of result. Then bring it with you that in all ways the operation is
successful. You have saved her life this time, and you can go home and rest easy in mind that all that can be is. I shall tell her all when she is well; she shall love you none the less for what you have done. Good-bye."
When Arthur had gone I went back to the room. Lucy was sleeping gently, but her breathing was stronger; I could see the counterpane move as her breast heaved. By the bedside sat Van Helsing, looking at her intently. The velvet band again covered the red mark. I asked the Professor in a whisper:-
"What do you make of that mark on her throat?"
"What do you make of it?"
"I have not examined it yet," I answered, and then and there proceeded to loose the band. Just over the external jugular vein there were two punctures, not large, but not wholesome-looking. There was no sign of disease, but the edges were white and worn-looking, as if by some trituration. It at once occurred to me that this wound, or whatever it was, might be the means of that manifest loss of blood; but I abandoned the idea as soon as formed, for such a thing could not be. The whole bed would have been drenched to a scarlet with the blood which the girl must have lost to leave such a pallor as she had before the transfusion.
"Well?" said Van Helsing.
"Well," said I, "I can make nothing of it." The Professor stood up. "I must go back to Amsterdam to-night," he said. "There are books and things there which I want. You must remain here all the night, and you must not let your sight pass from her."
"Shall I have a nurse?" I asked.
"We are the best nurses, you and I. You keep watch all night; see that she is well fed, and that nothing disturbs her. You must not sleep all the night. Later on we can sleep, you and I. I shall be back as soon as possible. And then we may begin."
"May begin?" I said. "What on earth do you mean?"
"We shall see!" he answered as he hurried out. He came back a moment later and put his head inside the door and said with warning finger held up:-
"Remember, she is your charge. If you leave her, and harm befall, you shall not sleep easy hereafter!"

Dr. Seward's Diary- continued.
8 September.- I sat up all night with Lucy. The opiate worked itself off towards dusk, and she waked naturally; she looked a different being from what she had been before the operation. Her spirits even were good, and she was full of a happy vivacity, but I could see evidences of the absolute prostration which she had undergone. When I told Mrs. Westenra that Dr. Van Helsing had directed that I should sit up with her she almost pooh-poohed the idea, pointing out her daughter's renewed strength and excellent spirits. I was firm, however, and made preparations for my long vigil. When her maid had prepared her for the night I came in, having in the meantime had supper, and took a seat by the bedside. She did not in any way make objection, but looked at me gratefully whenever I caught her eye. After a long spell she seemed sinking off to sleep, but with an effort seemed to pull herself together and shook it off. This was repeated several times, with greater effort and with shorter pauses as the time moved on. It was apparent that she did not want to sleep, so I tackled the subject at once:-
"You do not want to go to sleep?"
"No; I am afraid."
"Afraid to go to sleep! Why so? It is the boon we all crave for."
"Ah, not if you were like me- if sleep was to you a presage of horror!"
"A presage of horror! What on earth do you mean?"
"I don't know; oh, I don't know. And that is what is so terrible. All this weakness comes to me in sleep; until I dread the very thought."
"But, my dear girl, you may sleep to-night. I am here watching you, and I can promise that nothing will happen."
"Ah, I can trust you!" I seized the opportunity, and said: "I promise you that if I see any evidence of bad dreams I will wake you at once."
"You will? Oh, will you really? How good you are to me. Then I will sleep!" And almost at the word she gave a deep sigh of relief, and sank back, asleep.
All night long I watched by, her. She never stirred, but slept on and on in a deep, tranquil, life-giving, health-giving sleep. Her lips were slightly parted, and her breast rose and fell with the regularity of a pendulum. There was a smile on her face, and it was evident that no bad dreams had come to disturb her peace of mind.
In the early morning her maid came, and I left her in her care and took myself back home, for I was anxious about many things. I sent a short wire to Van Helsing and to Arthur, telling them of the excellent result of the operation. My own work, with its manifold arrears, took me all day to clear off, it was dark when I was able to inquire about my zoophagous patient. The report was good; he had been quite quiet for the past day and night. A telegram came from Van Helsing at Amsterdam whilst I was at dinner, suggesting that I should be at Hillingham to-night, as it might be well to be at hand, and stating that he was leaving by the night mail and would join me early in the morning.
9 September.- I was pretty tired and worn out when I got to Hillingham. For two nights I had hardly had a wink of sleep, and my brain was beginning to feel that numbness which marks cerebral exhaustion. Lucy was up and in cheerful spirits. When she shook hands with me she looked sharply in my face and said:-
"No sitting up to-night for you. You are worn out. I am quite well again; indeed, I am; and if there is to be any sitting up, it is I who will sit up with you." I would not argue the point, but went and had my supper. Lucy came with me, and, enlivened by her charming presence, I made an excellent meal, and had a couple of glasses of the more than excellent port. Then Lucy took me upstairs, and showed me a room next her own, where a cozy fire was burning. "Now," she said, "you must stay here. I shall leave this door open and my door too. You can lie on the sofa for I know that nothing would induce any of you doctors to go to bed whilst there is a patient above the horizon. If I want anything I shall call out, and you can come to me at once." I could not but acquiesce, for I was "dob-tired," and could not have sat up had I tried. So, on her renewing her promise to call me if she should want anything, I lay on the sofa, and forgot all about
everything.

Lucy Westenra's Diary.
9 September.- I feel so happy to-night. I have been so miserably weak, that to be able to think and move about is like feeling sunshine after a long spell of east wind out of a steel sky. Somehow Arthur feels very, very close to me. I seem to feel his presence warm about me. I suppose it is that sickness and weakness are selfish things and turn our inner eyes and sympathy on ourselves, whilst health and strength give Love rein, and in thought and feeling he can wander where he wills. I know where my thoughts are. If Arthur only knew! My dear, my dear, your ears must tingle as you sleep, as mine do waking. Oh, the blissful rest of last night! How I slept, with that dear, good Dr. Seward watching me. And to-night I shall not fear to sleep, since he is close at hand and within call. Thank everybody for being so good to me! Thank God! Good-night Arthur.

Dr. Seward's Diary.
10 September.- I was conscious of the Professor's hand on my head, and started awake all in a second. That is one of the things that we learn in an asylum, at any rate.
"And how is our patient?"
"Well, when I left her, or rather when she left me," I answered.
"Come, let us see," he said. And together we went into the room.
The blind was down, and I went over to raise it gently, whilst Van Helsing stepped, with his soft, cat-like tread, over to the bed.
As I raised the blind, and the morning sunlight flooded the room, I heard the Professor's low hiss of inspiration, and knowing its rarity, a deadly fear shot through my heart. As I passed over he moved back, and his exclamation of horror, "Gott in Himmel!" needed no enforcement from his agonised face. He raised his hand and pointed to the bed, and his iron face was drawn and ashen white. I felt my knees begin to tremble.
There on the bed, seemingly in a swoon, lay poor Lucy, more horribly white and wan-looking than ever. Even the lips were white, and the gums seemed to have shrunken back from the teeth, as we sometimes see in a corpse after a prolonged illness. Van Helsing raised his foot to stamp in anger, but the instinct of his life and all the long years of habit stood to him, and he put it down again softly. "Quick!" he said. "Bring the brandy." I flew to the dining-room, and returned with the decanter. He wetted the poor white lips with it, and together we rubbed palm and wrist and heart. He felt her heart, and after a few moments of agonising suspense said:-
"It is not too late. It beats, though but feebly. All our work is undone; we must begin again. There is no young Arthur here now; I have to call on you yourself this time, friend John." As he spoke, he was dipping into his bag and producing the instruments for transfusion; I had taken off my coat and rolled up my shirt-sleeve. There was no possibility of an opiate just at present, and no need of one; and so, without a moment's delay, we began the operation. After a time- it did not seem a short time either, for the draining away of one's blood, no matter how willingly it be given, is a terrible feeling- Van Helsing held up a warning finger. "Do not stir," he said, "but I fear that with growing strength she may wake; and that would make danger, oh, so much danger. But I shall precaution take. I shall give hypodermic injection of morphia." He proceeded then, swiftly and deftly, to carry out his intent. The effect on Lucy was not bad, for the faint seemed to merge subtly into the narcotic sleep. It was with a feeling of personal pride that I could see a faint tinge of colour steal back into the pallid cheeks and lips. No man knows till he experiences it, what it is to feel his own life-blood drawn away into the veins of the woman he loves.
The Professor watched me critically. "That will do," he said. "Already?" I remonstrated. "You took a great deal more from Art." To which he smiled a sad sort of smile as he replied:-
"He is her lover, her fiance. You have work, much work, to do for her and for others; and the present will suffice."
When we stopped the operation, he attended to Lucy, whilst I applied digital pressure to my own incision. I laid down, whilst I waited his leisure to attend to me, for I felt faint and a little sick. By-and-by he bound up my wound, and sent me downstairs to get a glass of wine for myself. As I was leaving the room, he came after me,
and half whispered:-
"Mind, nothing must be said of this. If our young lover should turn up unexpected, as before, no word to him. It would at once frighten him and enjealous him, too. There must be none. So!"
When I came back he looked at me carefully, and then said:-
"You are not much the worse. Go into the room, and lie on your sofa, and rest awhile; then have much breakfast, and come here to me."
I followed out his orders, for I knew how right and wise they were. I had done my part, and now my next duty was to keep up my strength. I felt very weak, and in the weakness lost something of the amazement at what had occurred. I fell asleep on the sofa, however, wondering over and over again how Lucy had made such a retrograde movement, and how she could have been drained of so much blood with no sign anywhere to show for it. I think I must have continued my wonder in my dreams, for, sleeping and waking, my thoughts always came back to the little punctures in her throat and the ragged, exhausted appearance of their edges- tiny though they were.
Lucy slept well into the day and when she woke she was fairly well and strong, though not nearly so much so as the day before. When Van Helsing had seen her, he went out for a walk, leaving me in charge, with strict injunctions that I was not to leave her for a moment. I could hear his voice in the hall, asking the way to the nearest telegraph office.
Lucy chatted with me freely, and seemed quite unconscious that anything had happened. I tried to keep her amused and interested. When her mother came up to see her, she did not seem to notice any change whatever, but said to me gratefully:-
"We owe you so much, Dr. Seward, for all you have done, but you really must now take care not to overwork yourself. You are looking pale yourself. You want a wife to nurse and look after you a bit; that you do!" As she spoke, Lucy turned crimson, though it was only momentarily, for her poor wasted veins could not stand for long such an unwonted drain to the head. The reaction came in excessive pallor as she turned imploring eyes on me. I smiled and nodded, and laid my finger on my lips; with a sigh, she sank back amid her pillows.
Van Helsing returned in a couple of hours, and presently said to me: "Now you go home, and eat much and drink enough. Make yourself strong. I stay here to-night, and I shall sit up with little miss myself. You and I must watch the case, and we must have none other to know. I have grave reasons. No, do not ask them; think what you will. Do not fear to think even the most not-probable. Good-night."
In the hall two of the maids came to me, and asked if they or either of them might not sit up with Miss Lucy. They implored me to let them; and when I said it was Dr. Van Helsing's wish that either he or I should sit up, they asked me quite piteously to intercede with the "foreign gentleman." I was much touched by their kindness. Perhaps it is because I am weak at present, and perhaps because it was on Lucy's account, that their devotion was manifested; for over and over again have I seen similar instances of woman's kindness. I got back here in time for a late dinner; went my rounds- all well; and set this down whilst waiting for sleep. It is coming.
11 September.- This afternoon I went over to Hillingham. Found Van Helsing in excellent spirits, and Lucy much better. Shortly after I had arrived, a big parcel from abroad came for the Professor. He opened it with much impressment- assumed, of course- and showed a great bundle of white flowers.
"These are for you, Miss Lucy," he said.
"For me? Oh, Dr. Van Helsing!"
"Yes, my dear, but not for you to play with. These are medicines." Here Lucy made a wry face. "Nay, but they are not to take in a decoction or in nauseous form, so you need not snub that so charming nose, or I shall point out to my friend Arthur what woes he may have to endure in seeing so much beauty that he so loves so much distort. Aha, my pretty miss, that bring the so nice nose all straight again, This is medicinal, but you do not know how. I put him in your window, I make pretty wreath, and hang him round your neck, so that you sleep well. Oh yes! they, like the lotus flower, make your trouble forgotten. It smell so like the waters of Lethe, and of that fountain of youth that the Conquistodores sought for in the Floridas, and find him all too late."
Whilst he was speaking, Lucy had been examining the flowers and smelling them. Now she threw them down. saying, with half-laughter and half-disgust:
"Oh, Professor, I believe you are only putting up a joke on me. Why, these flowers are only common garlic."
To my surprise, Van Helsing rose up and said with all his sterness, his iron jaw set and his bushy eyebrows meeting:-
"No trifling with me! I never jest! There is grim purpose in all I do; and I warn you that you do not thwart me. Take care, for the sake of others if not for your own." Then seeing poor Lucy scared, as she might well be, he went on more gently: "Oh, little miss, my dear, do not fear me. I only do for your good; but there is much virtue to you in those so common flowers. See, I place them myself in your room. I make myself the wreath that you are to wear. But hush! no telling to others that make so inquisitive questions. We must obey, and silence is a part of obedience; and obedience is to bring you strong and well into loving arms that wait for you. Now sit still awhile. Come with me, friend John, and you shall help me deck the room with my garlic, which is all the way from Haarlem, where my friend Vanderpool raise herb in his glass-houses all the year. I had to telegraph yesterday, or they would not have been here."
We went into the room, taking the flowers with us. The Professor's actions were certainly odd and not to be found in any pharmacopoeia that I ever heard of. First he fastened up the windows and latched them securely; next, taking a handful of the flowers, he rubbed them all over the sashes, as though to ensure that every whiff of air that might get in would be laden with the garlic smell. Then with the wisp he rubbed all over the jamb of the door, above, below, and at each side, and round the fireplace in the same way. It all seemed grotesque to me, and presently I said:-
"Well, Professor, I know you always have a reason for what you do, but this certainly puzzles me. It is well we have no sceptic here, or he would say that you were working some spell to keep out an evil spirit."
"Perhaps I am!" he answered quietly as he began to make the wreath which Lucy was to wear round her neck.
We then waited whilst Lucy made her toilet for the night, and when she was in bed he came and himself fixed the wreath of garlic round her neck. The last words he said to her were:-
"Take care you do not disturb it; and even if the room feel close, do not to-night open the window or the door."
"I promise," said Lucy,- "and thank you both a thousand times for all your kindness to me! Oh, what have I done to be blessed with such friends?"
As we left the house in my fly, which was waiting, Van Helsing said:-
"To-night I can sleep in peace, and sleep I want- two nights of travel, much reading in the day between, and much anxiety on the day to follow, and a night to sit up, without to wink. To-morrow in the morning early you call for me, and we come together to see our pretty miss, so much more strong for my 'spell' which I have work. Ho! ho!"
He seemed so confident that I, remembering my own confidence two nights before and with the baneful result, felt awe and vague terror. It must have been my weakness that made me hesitate to tell it to my friend, but I felt it all the more, like unshed tears.
CHAPTER XIV.
MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL.
23 September.- Jonathan is better after a bad night. I am so glad that he has plenty of work to do, for that keeps his mind off the terrible things; and oh, I am rejoiced that he is not now weighed down with the responsibility of his new position. I knew he would be true to himself, and now how proud I am to see my Jonathan rising to the height of his advancement and keeping pace in all ways with the duties that come upon him. He will be away all day till late, for he said he could not lunch at home. My household work is done, so I shall take his foreign journal, and lock myself up in my room and read it...
24 September.- I hadn't the heart to write last night; that terrible record of Jonathan's upset me so. Poor dear! How he must have suffered, whether it be true or only imagination. I wonder if there is any truth in it at all. Did he get his brain fever, and then write all those terrible things, or had he some cause for it all? I suppose I shall never know, for I dare not open the subject to him... And yet that man we saw yesterday! He seemed quite certain of him... Poor fellow! I suppose it was the funeral upset him and sent his mind back on some train of thought... He believes it all himself. I remember how on our wedding-day he said: "Unless some solemn duty come upon me to go back to the bitter hours, asleep or awake, mad or sane." There seems to be through it all some thread of continuity... That fearful Count was coming to London... If it should be, and he came to London, with his teeming millions... There may be a solemn duty; and if it come we must not shrink from it... I shall be prepared. I shall get my typewriter this very hour and begin transcribing. Then we shall be ready for other eyes if required. And if it be wanted; then, perhaps, if I am ready, poor Jonathan may not be upset, for I can speak for him and never let him be troubled or worried with it at all. If ever Jonathan quite gets over the nervousness he may want to tell me of it all, and I can ask him questions and find out things, and see how I may comfort him.

Letter, Van Helsing to Mrs. Harker.
"24 September.
(Confidence)
"Dear Madam,-
"I pray you to pardon my writing, in that I am so far friend as that I sent to you sad news of Miss Lucy Westenra's death. By the kindness of Lord Godalming, I am empowered to read her letters and papers, for I am deeply concerned about certain matters vitally important. In them I find some letters from you, which show how great friends you were and how you love her. Oh, Madam Mina, by that love, I implore you, help me. It is for others' good that I ask- to redress great wrong, and to lift much and terrible troubles- that may be more great than you can know. May it be that I see you? You can trust me. I am friend of Dr. John Seward and of Lord Godalming (that was Arthur of Miss Lucy). I must keep it private for the present from all. I should come to Exeter to see you at once if you tell me I am privilege to come, and where and when. I implore your pardon, madam. I have read your letters to poor Lucy, and know how good you are and how your husband suffer; so I pray you, if it may be, enlighten him not, lest it may harm. Again your pardon, and forgive me.
"Van Helsing."

Telegram, Mrs. Harker to Van Helsing.
"25 September.- Come to-day by quarter-past ten train if you can catch it. Can see you any time you call.
"Wilhelmina Harker."

Mina Harker's Journal.
25 September.- I cannot help feeling terribly excited as the time draws near for the visit of Dr. Van Helsing, for somehow I expect that it will throw some light upon Jonathan's sad experience: and as he attended poor dear Lucy in her last illness, he can tell me all about her. That is the reason of his coming, it is concerning Lucy and her sleep-walking, and not about Jonathan. Then I shall never know the real truth now! How silly I am. That awful journal gets hold of my imagination and tinges everything with something of its own colour. Of course it is about Lucy. That habit came back to the poor dear, and that awful night on the cliff must have made her ill. I had almost forgotten in my own affairs how ill she was afterwards. She must have told him of her sleep-walking adventure on the cliff, and that I knew all about it; and now he wants me to tell him what she knows, so that he may understand. I hope I did right in not saying anything of it to Mrs. Westenra; I should never forgive myself if any act of mine, were it even a negative one, brought harm on poor dear Lucy. I hope, too, Dr. Van Helsing will not blame me; I have had so much trouble and anxiety of late that I feel I cannot bear more just at present.
I suppose a cry does us all good at times- clears the air as other rain does. Perhaps it was reading the journal yesterday that upset me, and then Jonathan went away this morning to stay away from me a whole day and night, the first time we have been parted since our marriage. I do hope the dear fellow will take care of himself, and that nothing will occur to upset him. It is two o'clock, and the doctor will be here soon now. I shall say nothing of Jonathan's journal unless he asks me. I am so glad I have type-written out my own journal, so that, in case he asks about Lucy, I can hand it to him; it will save much questioning.
Later.- He has come and gone. Oh, what a strange meeting, and how it all makes my head whirl round! I feel like one in a dream. Can it be all possible, or even a part of it? if I had not read Jonathan's journal first, I should never have accepted even a possibility. Poor, poor, dear Jonathan! How he must have suffered. Please the good God, all this may not upset him again. I shall try to save him from it; but it may be even a consolation and a help to him- terrible though it be and awful in its consequences- to know for certain that his eyes and ears and brain did not deceive him, and that it is all true. It may be that it is the doubt which haunts him; that when the doubt is removed, no matter which- waking or dreaming- may prove the truth, he will be more satisfied and better able to bear the shock. Dr. Van Helsing must be a good man as well as a clever one if he is Arthur's friend and Dr. Seward's, and if they brought him all the way from Holland to look after Lucy. I feel from having seen him that he is good and kind and of a noble nature. When he comes to-morrow I shall ask him about Jonathan; and then, please God, all this sorrow and anxiety may lead to a good end. I used to think I would like to practice interviewing; Jonathan's friend on "The Exeter News" told him that memory was everything in such work- that you must be able to put down exactly almost every word spoken, even if you had to refine some of it afterwards. Here was a rare interview; I shall try to record it verbatim.
It was half-past two o'clock when the knock came. I took my courage a deux mains and waited. In a few minutes Mary opened the door, and announced "Dr. Van Helsing."
I rose and bowed, and he came towards me; a man of medium weight, strongly built, with his shoulders set back over a broad, deep chest and a neck well balanced on the trunk as the head is on the neck. The poise of the head strikes one at once as indicative of thought and power, the head is noble, well-sized, broad, and large behind the ears. The face shows a hard, square chin, a large, resolute, mobile mouth, a good-sized nose, rather straight, but with quick, sensitive nostrils, that seem to broaden as the big, bushy brows come down and the mouth tightens. The forehead is broad and fine, rising at first almost straight and then sloping back above two bumps or ridges wide apart; such a forehead that the reddish hair cannot possibly tumble over it, but falls naturally back and to the sides. Big, dark blue eyes are set widely apart, and are quick and tender or stern with the man's moods. He said to me:-
"Mrs. Harker, is it not?" I bowed assent.
"That was Miss Mina Murray?" Again I assented.
"It is Mina Murray that I came to see that was friend of that poor dear child Lucy Westenra. Madam Mina, it is on account of the dead I come."
"Sir," I said, "you could have no better claim on me than that you were a friend and helper of Lucy Westenra." And I held out my hand. He took it and said tenderly:-
"Oh, Madam Mina, I knew that the friend of that poor lily girl must be good, but I had yet to learn-" He finished his speech with a courtly bow. I asked him what it was that he wanted to see me about, so he at once began:-
"I have read your letters to Miss Lucy. Forgive me, but I had to begin to inquire somewhere, and there was none to ask. I know that you were with her at Whitby. She sometimes kept a diary- you need not look, surprised Madam Mina; it was begun after you had left, and was made in imitation of you- and in that diary she traces by inference certain things to a sleep-walking in which she puts down that you saved her. In great perplexity then I come to you, and ask you out of your so much kindness to tell me all of it that you remember."
"I can tell you, I think, Dr. Van Helsing, all about it."
"Ah, then you have good memory for facts, for details? It is not always so with young ladies."
"No, doctor, but I wrote it all down at the time. I can show it to you if you like."
"Oh, Madam Mina, I will be grateful; you will do me much favour."
I could not resist the temptation of mystifying him a bit- I suppose it is some of the taste of the original apple that remains still in our mouths- so I handed him the shorthand diary. He took it with a grateful bow, and said:-
"May I read it?"
"If you wish," I answered as demurely as I could. He opened it, and for an instant his face fell. Then he stood up and bowed.
"Oh, you so clever woman!" he said. "I long knew that Mr. Jonathan was a man of much thankfulness; but see, his wife have all the good things. And will you not so much honour me and so help me as to read it for me? Alas! I know not the shorthand." By this time my little joke was over, and I was almost ashamed; so I took the type-written copy from my workbasket and handed it to him.
"Forgive me," I said: "I could not help it; but I had been thinking that it was of dear Lucy that you wished to ask, and so
that you might not have to wait- not on my account, but because I know your time must be precious- I have written it out on the typewriter for you."
He took it and his eyes glistened. "You are so good," he said. "And may I read it now? I may want to ask you some things when I have read."
"By all means," I said, "read it over whilst I order lunch; and then you can ask me questions whilst we eat." He bowed and settled himself in a chair with his back to the light, and became absorbed in the papers, whilst I went to see after lunch, chiefly in order that he might not be disturbed. When I came back I found him walking hurriedly up and down the room, his face all ablaze with excitement. He rushed up to me and took me by both hands.
"Oh, Madam Mina," he said, "how can I say what I owe to you? This paper is as sunshine. It opens the gate to me. I am daze, I am dazzle, with so much light; and yet clouds roll in behind the light every time. But that you do not, cannot, comprehend. Oh, but I am grateful to you, you so clever woman. Madam"- he said this very solemnly- "if ever Abraham Van Helsing can do anything for you or yours, I trust you will let me know. It will be pleasure and delight if I may serve you as a friend; as a friend, but all I have ever learned, all I can ever do, shall be for you and those you love. There are darknesses in life, and there are lights; you are one of the lights. You will have happy life and good life, and your husband will be blessed in you."
"But, doctor, you praise me too much, and- and you do not know me."
"Not know you- I, who am old, and who have studied all my life men and women; I, who have made my specialty the brain and all that belongs to him and all that follow from him! And I have read your diary that you have so goodly written for me, and which breathes out truth in every line. I, who have read your so sweet letter to poor Lucy of your marriage and your trust, not know you! Oh, Madam Mina, good women tell all their lives, and by day and by hour and by minute, such things that angels can read; and we men who wish to know have in us something of angels' eyes. Your husband is noble nature, and you are noble too, for you trust, and trust cannot be where there is mean nature. And your husband- tell me of him. Is he quite well? Is all that fever gone, and is he strong and hearty?" I saw here an opening to ask him about Jonathan, so I said:-
"He was almost recovered, but he has been greatly upset by Mr. Hawkins's death." He interrupted:-
"Oh yes, I know, I know. I have read your last two letters." I went on:-
"I suppose this upset him, for when we were in town on Thursday last he had a sort of shock."
"A shock, and after brain fever so soon! That was not good. What kind of shock was it?"
"He thought he saw some one who recalled something terrible, something which led to his brain fever." And here the whole thing seemed to overwhelm me in a rush. The pity for Jonathan, the horror which he experienced, the whole fearful mystery of his diary, and the fear that has been brooding over me ever since, all came in a tumult. I suppose I was hysterical, for I threw myself on my knees and held up my hands to him, and implored him to make my husband well again. He took my hands and raised me up, and made me sit on the sofa, and sat by me; he held my hand in his, and said to me with, oh, such infinite sweetness:-
"My life is a barren and lonely one, and so full of work that I have not had much time for friendships; but since I have been summoned to here by my friend John Seward I have known so many good people and seen such nobility that I feel more than ever- and it has grown with my advancing years- the loneliness of my life. Believe me, then, that I come here full of respect for you, and you have given me hope- hope, not in what I am seeking of, but that there are good women still left to make life happy- good women, whose lives and whose truths may make good lesson for the children that are to be. I am glad, glad, that I may here be of some use to you; for if your husband suffer, he suffer within the range of my study and experience. I promise you that I will gladly do all for him that I can- all to make his life strong and manly, and your life a happy one. Now you must eat. You are overwrought and perhaps over-anxious. Husband Jonathan would not like to see you so pale; and what he like not where he love, is not to his good. Therefore for his sake you must eat and smile. You have told me all about Lucy, and so now we shall not speak of it, lest it distress. I shall stay in Exeter to-night, for I want to think much over what you have told me, and when I have thought I will ask you questions, if I may. And then, too, you will tell me of husband Jonathan's trouble so far as you can, but not yet. You must eat now; afterwards you shall tell me all."
After lunch, when we went back to the drawing-room, he said to me:-
"And now tell me all about him." When it came to speaking to this great, learned man, I began to fear that he would think me a weak fool, and Jonathan a madman- that journal is all so strange- and I hesitated to go on. But he was so sweet and kind, and he had promised to help, and I trusted him, so I said:-
"Dr. Van Helsing, what I have to tell you is so queer that you must not laugh at me or at my husband. I have been since yesterday in a sort of fever of doubt; you must be kind to me, and not think me foolish that I have even half believed some very strange things." He reassured me by his manner as well as his words when he said:-
"Oh, my dear, if you only knew how strange is the matter regarding which I am here, it is you who would laugh. I have learned not to think little of any one's belief, no matter how strange it be. I have tried to keep an open mind; and it is not the ordinary things of life that could close it, but the strange things, the extraordinary things, the things that make one doubt if they be mad or sane."
"Thank you, thank you, a thousand times! You have taken a weight off my mind. If you will let me, I shall give you a paper to read. It is long, but I have typewritten it out. It will tell you my trouble and Jonathan's. It is the copy of his journal when abroad, and all that happened. I happ dare not say anything of it; you will read for yourself and judge. And then when I see you, perhaps, you will be very kind and tell me what you think."


"I promise," he said as I gave him the papers; "I shall in the morning, so soon as I can, come to see you and your husband, if I may."
"Jonathan will be here at half-past eleven, and you must come to lunch with us and see him then; you could catch the quick 3:34 train, which will leave you at Paddington before eight." He was surprised at my knowledge of the trains off-hand, but he does not know that I have made up all the trains to and from Exeter, so that I may help Jonathan in case he is in a hurry.
So he took the papers with him and went away, and I sit here thinking- thinking I don't know what.

Letter (by hand), Van Helsing to Mrs. Harker.
"25 September, 6 o'clock.
"Dear Madam Mina,-
"I have read your husband's so wonderful diary. You may sleep without doubt. Strange and terrible as it is, it is true! I will
pledge my life on it. It may be worse for others; but for him and you there is no dread. He is a noble fellow; and let me tell you from experience of men, that one who would do as he did in going down that wall and to that room- ay, and going a second time- is not one to be injured in permanence by a shock. His brain and his heart are all right; this I swear, before I have even seen him; so be at rest. I shall have much to ask him of other things. I am blessed that to-day I come to see you, for I have learn all at once so much that again I am dazzle- dazzle more than ever, and I must think.
"Yours the most faithful,
"Abraham Van Helsing."

Letter, Mrs. Harker to Van Helsing.
"25 September, 6:30 p.m.
"My dear Dr. Van Helsing,-
"A thousand thanks for your kind letter, which has taken a great weight off my mind. And yet, if it be true, what terrible things there are in the world, and what an awful thing if that man, that monster, be really in London! I fear to think. I have this moment, whilst writing, had a wire from Jonathan, saying that he leaves by the 6:25 to-night from Launceston and will be here at 10:18, so that I shall have no fear to-night. Will you, therefore, instead of lunching with us, please come to breakfast at eight o'clock, if this be not too early for you? You can get away, if you are in a hurry, by the 10:30 train, which will bring you to Paddington by 2:35. Do not answer this, as I shall take it that if I do not hear, you will come to breakfast.
"Believe me,
"Your faithful and grateful friend,
"Mina Harker."

Jonathan Harker's Journal.
26 September.- I thought never to write in this diary again, but the time has come. When I got home last night Mina had supper ready, and when we had supped she told me of Van Helsing's visit, and of her having given him the two diaries copied out, and of how anxious she has been about me. She showed me in the doctor's letter that all I wrote down was true. It seems to have made a new man of me. It was the doubt as to the reality of the whole thing that knocked me over. I felt impotent, and in the dark, and distrustful. But, now that I know, I am not afraid, even of the Count. He has succeeded after all, then, in his design in getting to London, and it was he I saw. He has got younger, and how? Van Helsing is the man to unmask him and hunt him out, if he is anything like what Mina says. We sat late, and talked it all over. Mina is dressing, and I shall call at the hotel in a few minutes and bring him over...
He was, I think, surprised to see me. When I came into the room where he was, and introduced myself, he took me by the shoulder, and turned my face round to the light, and said, after a sharp scrutiny:-
"But Madam Mina told me you were ill, that you had had a shock." It was so funny to hear my wife called "Madam Mina" by this kindly, strong-faced old man. I smiled, and said:-
"I was ill, I have had a shock; but you have cured me already."
"And how?"
"By your letter to Mina last night. I was in doubt, and then everything took a hue of unreality, and I did not know what to trust, even the evidence of my own senses. Not knowing what to trust, I did not know what to do; and so had only to keep on working in what had hitherto been the groove of my life. The groove ceased to avail me, and I mistrusted myself. Doctor, you don't know what it is to doubt everything, even yourself. No, you don't; you couldn't with eyebrows like yours." He seemed pleased, and laughed as he said:-
"So! You are physiognomist. I learn more here with each hour. I am with so much pleasure coming to you to breakfast; and, oh, sir, you will pardon praise from an old man, but you are blessed in your wife." I would listen to him go on praising Mina for a day, so I simply nodded and stood silent.
"She is one of God's women, fashioned by His own hand to show us men and other women that there is a heaven where we can enter, and that its light can be here on earth. So true, so sweet, so noble, so little an egoist- and that, let me tell you, is much in this age, so sceptical and selfish. And you, sir- I have read all the letters to poor Miss Lucy, and some of them speak of you, so I know you since some days from the knowing of others; but I have seen your true self since last night. You will give me your hand, will you not? And let us be friends for all our lives."
We shook hands, and he was so earnest and so kind that it made me quite choky.
"And now." he said, "may I ask you for some more help? I have a great task to do, and at the beginning it is to know. You can help me here. Can you tell me what went before your going to Transylvania? Later on I may ask more help, and of a different kind; but at first this will do."
"Look here, sir," I said, "does what you have to do concern the Count?"
"It does," he said solemnly.
"Then I am with you heart and soul. As you go by the 10:30 train, you will not have time to read them; but I shall get the bundle of papers. You can take them with you and read them in the train."
After breakfast I saw him to the station. When we were parting he said:-
"Perhaps you will come to town if I send to you, and take Madam Mina too."
"We shall both come when you will," I said.
I had got him the morning papers and the London papers of the previous night, and while we were talking at the carriage window, waiting for the train to start, he was turning them over. His eye suddenly seemed to catch something in one of them, "The Westminster Gazette"- I knew it by the colour- and he grew quite white. He read something intently, groaning to himself. "Mein Gott! Mein Gott! So soon! so soon!" I do not think he remembered me at the moment. Just then the whistle blew, and the train moved off. This recalled him to himself, and he leaned out of the window and waved his hand, calling out: "Love to Madam Mina; I shall write so soon as ever I can."

Dr. Seward's Diary.
26 September.- Truly there is no such thing as finality. Not a week since I said "Finis," and yet here I am starting fresh again, or rather going on with the same record. Until this afternoon I had no cause to think of what is done. Renfield had become, to all intents, as sane as he ever was. He was already well ahead with his fly business; and he had just started in the spider line also; so he had not been of any trouble to me. I had a letter from Arthur, written on Sunday, and from it I gather that he is bearing up wonderfully well. Quincey Morris is with him, and that is much of a help, for he himself is a bubbling well of good spirits. Quincey wrote me a line too, and from him I hear that Arthur is beginning to recover something of his old buoyancy; so as to them all my mind is at rest. As for myself, I was settling down to my work with the enthusiasm which I used to have for it, so that I might fairly have said that the wound which poor Lucy left on me was becoming cicatrised. Everything is, however, now reopened; and what is to be the end God only knows. I have an idea that Van Helsing thinks he knows too, but he will only let out enough at a time to whet curiosity. He went to Exeter yesterday, and stayed there all night. To-day he came back, and almost bounded into the room at about half-past five o'clock, and thrust last night's "Westminister Gazette" into my hand.
"What do you think of that?" he asked as he stood back and folded his arms.
I looked over the paper, for I really did not know what he meant; but he took it from me and pointed out a paragraph about children being decoyed away at Hampstead. It did not convey much to me, until I reached a passage where it described small punctured wounds on their throats. An idea struck me, and I looked up. "Well?" he said. "It is like poor Lucy's."
"And what do you make of it?"
"Simply that there is some cause in common. Whatever it was that injured her has injured them." I did not quite understand his answer:-
"That is true indirectly, but not directly."
"How do you mean, Professor?" I asked. I was a little inclined to take his seriousness lightly- for, after all, four days of rest and freedom from burning, harrowing anxiety does help to restore one's spirits- but when I saw his face, it sobered me. Never, even in the midst of our despair about poor Lucy, had he looked more stern.
"Tell me!" I said. "I can hazard no opinion. I do not know what to think, and I have no data on which to found a conjecture."
"Do you mean to tell me, friend John, that you have no suspicion as to what poor Lucy died of, not after all the hints given, not only by events, but by me?"
"Of nervous prostration following on great loss or waste of blood."
"And how the blood lost or waste?" I shook my head. He stepped over and sat down beside me, and went on:-
"You are clever man, friend John; you reason well, and your wit is bold; but you are too prejudiced. You do not let your eyes see nor your ears hear, and that which is outside your daily life is not of account to you. Do you not think that there are things which you cannot understand, and yet which are; that some people see things that others cannot? But there are things old and new which must not be contemplate by men's eyes, because they know- or think they know- some things which other men have told them. Ah, it is the fault of our science that it wants to explain all; and if it explain not, then it says there is nothing to explain. But yet we see around us every day the growth of new beliefs, which think themselves new; and which are yet but the old, which pretend to be young- like the fine ladies at the opera. I suppose now you do not believe in corporeal transference. No? Nor in materialisation. No? Nor in astral bodies. No? Nor in the reading of thought. No? Nor in hypnotism-"
"Yes," I said. "Charcot has proved that pretty well." He smiled as he went on: "Then you are satisfied as to it. Yes? And of course then you understand how it act, and can follow the mind of the great Charcot- alas that he is no more!- into the very soul of the patient that he influence. No? Then, friend John, am I to take it that you simply accept fact, and are satisfied to let from premise to conclusion be a blank? No? Then tell me- for I am student of the brain- how you accept the hypnotism and reject the thought reading. Let me tell you, my friend, that there are things done to-day in electrical science which would have been deemed unholy by the very men who discovered electricity- who would themselves not so long before have been burned as wizards. There are always mysteries in life. Why was it that Methuselah lived nine hundred years, and 'Old Parr' one hundred and sixty-nine, and yet that poor Lucy, with four men's blood in her poor veins, could not live even one day? For, had she live one more day, we could have save her. Do you know all the mystery of life and death? Do you know the altogether of comparative anatomy, and can say wherefore the qualities of brutes are in some men, and not in others? Can you tell me why, when other spiders die small and soon, that one great spider lived for centuries in the tower of the old Spanish church and grew and grew, till, on descending, he could drink the oil of all the church lamps? Can you tell me why in the Pampas, ay and elsewhere, there are bats that come at night and open the veins of cattle and horses and suck dry their veins; how in some islands of the Western seas there are bats which hang on the trees all day, that those who have seen describe as like giant nuts or pods and that when the sailors sleep on the deck, because that it is hot, flit down on them, and then- and then in the morning are found dead men, white as even Miss Lucy was?"
"Good God, Professor!" I said, starting up. "Do you mean to tell me that Lucy was bitten by such a bat; and that such a thing is here in London in the nineteenth century?" He waved his hand for silence, and went on:-
"Can you tell me why the tortoise lives more long than generations of men; why the elephant goes on and on till he have seen dynasties; and why the parrot never die only of bite of cat or dog or other complaint? Can you tell me why men believe in all ages and places that there are some few who live on always if they be permit; that there are men and women who cannot die? We all know- because science has vouched for the fact- that there have been toads shut up in rocks for thousands of years, shut in one so small hole that only hold him since the youth of the world. Can you tell me how the Indian fakir make himself to die and have been buried, and his grave sealed and corn sowed on it, and the corn reaped and be cut and sown and reaped and cut again, and then men come and take away the unbroken seal, and that there lie the Indian fakir, not dead, but that rise up and walk amongst them as before?" Here I interrupted him. I was getting bewildered; he so crowded on my mind his list of nature's eccentricities and possible impossibilities that my imagination was getting fired. I had a dim idea that he was teaching me some lesson, as long ago he used to do in his study at Amsterdam; but he used then to tell me the thing, so that I could have the object of thought in mind all the time. But now I was without this help, yet I wanted to follow him, so I said:-
"Professor, let me be your pet student again. Tell me the thesis so that I may apply your knowledge as you go on. At present I am going in my mind from point to point as a mad man, and not a sane one, follows an idea. I feel like a novice blundering through a bog in a mist, jumping from one tussock to another in the mere blind effort to move on without knowing where I am going."
"That is good image," he said. "Well, I shall tell you My thesis is this: I want you to believe."
"To believe what?"
"To believe in things that you cannot. Let me illustrate. I heard once of an American who so defined faith: 'that faculty which enables us to believe things which we know to be untrue.' For one, I follow that man. He meant that we shall have an open mind, and not let a little bit of truth check the rush of a big truth, like a small rock does a railway truck. We get the small truth first. Good! We keep him, and we value him; but all the same we must not let him think himself all the truth in the universe."
"Then you want me not to let some previous conviction injure the receptivity of my mind with regard to some strange matter. Do I read your lesson aright?"
"Ah, you are my favourite pupil still. It is worth to teach you. Now that you are willing to understand, you have taken the first step to understand. You think then that those so small holes in the children's throats were made by the same that made the hole in Miss Lucy?"
"I suppose so" He stood up and said solemnly:-
"Then you are wrong. Oh, would it were so! but alas! no. It is worse, far, far worse."
"In God's name, Professor Van Helsing, what do you mean?" I cried. He threw himself with a despairing gesture into a chair, and placed his elbows on the table, covering his face with his hands as he spoke:-
"They were made by Miss Lucy!"
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The Dream Quest
of Unknown Kadath

Three times Randolph Carter dreamed of the marvelous city, and three times was he snatched away while still he paused on the high terrace above it. All golden and lovely it blazed in the sunset, with walls, temples, colonnades and arched bridges of veined marble, silver-basined fountains of prismatic spray in broad squares and perfumed gardens, and wide streets marching between delicate trees and blossom-laden urns and ivory statues in gleaming rows; while on steep northward slopes climbed tiers of red roofs and old peaked gables harbouring little lanes of grassy cobbles. It was a fever of the gods, a fanfare of supernal trumpets and a clash of immortal cymbals. Mystery hung about it as clouds about a fabulous unvisited mountain; and as Carter stood breathless and expectant on that balustraded parapet there swept up to him the poignancy and suspense of almost-vanished memory, the pain of lost things and the maddening need to place again what once had been an awesome and momentous place.

He knew that for him its meaning must once have been supreme; though in what cycle or incarnation he had known it, or whether in dream or in waking, he could not tell. Vaguely it called up glimpses of a far forgotten first youth, when wonder and pleasure lay in all the mystery of days, and dawn and dusk alike strode forth prophetic to the eager sound of lutes and song, unclosing fiery gates toward further and surprising marvels. But each night as he stood on that high marble terrace with the curious urns and carven rail and looked off over that hushed sunset city of beauty and unearthly immanence he felt the bondage of dream's tyrannous gods; for in no wise could he leave that lofty spot, or descend the wide marmoreal fights flung endlessly down to where those streets of elder witchery lay outspread and beckoning.

When for the third time he awakened with those flights still undescended and those hushed sunset streets still untraversed, he prayed long and earnestly to the hidden gods of dream that brood capricious above the clouds on unknown Kadath, in the cold waste where no man treads. But the gods made no answer and shewed no relenting, nor did they give any favouring sign when he prayed to them in dream, and invoked them sacrificially through the bearded priests of Nasht and Kaman-Thah, whose cavern-temple with its pillar of flame lies not far from the gates of the waking world. It seemed, however, that his prayers must have been adversely heard, for after even the first of them he ceased wholly to behold the marvellous city; as if his three glimpses from afar had been mere accidents or oversights, and against some hidden plan or wish of the gods.

At length, sick with longing for those glittering sunset streets and cryptical hill lanes among ancient tiled roofs, nor able sleeping or waking to drive them from his mind, Carter resolved to go with bold entreaty whither no man had gone before, and dare the icy deserts through the dark to where unknown Kadath, veiled in cloud and crowned with unimagined stars, holds secret and nocturnal the onyx castle of the Great Ones.

In light slumber he descended the seventy steps to the cavern of flame and talked of this design to the bearded priests Nasht and Kaman-Thah. And the priests shook their pshent-bearing heads and vowed it would be the death of his soul. They pointed out that the Great Ones had shown already their wish, and that it is not agreeable to them to be harassed by insistent pleas. They reminded him, too, that not only had no man ever been to Kadath, but no man had ever suspected in what part of space it may lie; whether it be in the dreamlands around our own world, or in those surrounding some unguessed companion of Fomalhaut or Aldebaran. If in our dreamland, it might conceivably be reached, but only three human souls since time began had ever crossed and recrossed the black impious gulfs to other dreamlands, and of that three, two had come back quite mad. There were, in such voyages, incalculable local dangers; as well as that shocking final peril which gibbers unmentionably outside the ordered universe, where no dreams reach; that last amorphous blight of nethermost confusion which blasphemes and bubbles at the centre of all infinity - the boundless daemon sultan Azathoth, whose name no lips dare speak aloud, and who gnaws hungrily in inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond time amidst the muffled, maddening beating of vile drums and the thin, monotonous whine of accursed flutes; to which detestable pounding and piping dance slowly, awkwardly, and absurdly the gigantic Ultimate gods, the blind, voiceless, tenebrous, mindless Other gods whose soul and messenger is the crawling chaos Nyarlathotep.

Of these things was Carter warned by the priests Nasht and Kaman-Thah in the cavern of flame, but still he resolved to find the gods on unknown Kadath in the cold waste, wherever that might be, and to win from them the sight and remembrance and shelter of the marvellous sunset city. He knew that his journey would be strange and long, and that the Great Ones would be against it; but being old in the land of dream he counted on many useful memories and devices to aid him. So asking a formal blessing of the priests and thinking shrewdly on his course, he boldly descended the seven hundred steps to the Gate of Deeper Slumber and set out through the Enchanted Wood.

In the tunnels of that twisted wood, whose low prodigious oaks twine groping boughs and shine dim with the phosphorescence of strange fungi, dwell the furtive and secretive Zoogs; who know many obscure secrets of the dream world and a few of the waking world, since the wood at two places touches the lands of men, though it would be disastrous to say where. Certain unexplained rumours, events, and vanishments occur among men where the Zoogs have access, and it is well that they cannot travel far outside the world of dreams. But over the nearer parts of the dream world they pass freely, flitting small and brown and unseen and bearing back piquant tales to beguile the hours around their hearths in the forest they love. Most of them live in burrows, but some inhabit the trunks of the great trees; and although they live mostly on fungi it is muttered that they have also a slight taste for meat, either physical or spiritual, for certainly many dreamers have entered that wood who have not come out. Carter, however, had no fear; for he was an old dreamer and had learnt their fluttering language and made many a treaty with them; having found through their help the splendid city of Celephais in Ooth-Nargai beyond the Tanarian Hills, where reigns half the year the great King Kuranes, a man he had known by another name in life. Kuranes was the one soul who had been to the star-gulls and returned free from madness.

Threading now the low phosphorescent aisles between those gigantic trunks, Carter made fluttering sounds in the manner of the Zoogs, and listened now and then for responses. He remembered one particular village of the creatures was in the centre of the wood, where a circle of great mossy stones in what was once a cleaning tells of older and more terrible dwellers long forgotten, and toward this spot he hastened. He traced his way by the grotesque fungi, which always seem better nourished as one approaches the dread circle where elder beings danced and sacrificed. Finally the great light of those thicker fungi revealed a sinister green and grey vastness pushing up through the roof of the forest and out of sight. This was the nearest of the great ring of stones, and Carter knew he was close to the Zoog village. Renewing his fluttering sound, he waited patiently; and was at last rewarded by an impression of many eyes watching him. It was the Zoogs, for one sees their weird eyes long before one can discern their small, slippery brown outlines.

Out they swarmed, from hidden burrow and honeycombed tree, till the whole dim-litten region was alive with them. Some of the wilder ones brushed Carter unpleasantly, and one even nipped loathsomely at his ear; but these lawless spirits were soon restrained by their elders. The Council of Sages, recognizing the visitor, offered a gourd of fermented sap from a haunted tree unlike the others, which had grown from a seed dropt down by someone on the moon; and as Carter drank it ceremoniously a very strange colloquy began. The Zoogs did not, unfortunately, know where the peak of Kadath lies, nor could they even say whether the cold waste is in our dream world or in another. Rumours of the Great Ones came equally from all points; and one might only say that they were likelier to be seen on high mountain peaks than in valleys, since on such peaks they dance reminiscently when the moon is above and the clouds beneath.

Then one very ancient Zoog recalled a thing unheard-of by the others; and said that in Ulthar, beyond the River Skai, there still lingered the last copy of those inconceivably old Pnakotic Manuscripts made by waking men in forgotten boreal kingdoms and borne into the land of dreams when the hairy cannibal Gnophkehs overcame many-templed Olathoe and slew all the heroes of the land of Lomar. Those manuscripts he said, told much of the gods, and besides, in Ulthar there were men who had seen the signs of the gods, and even one old priest who had scaled a great mountain to behold them dancing by moonlight. He had failed, though his companion had succeeded and perished namelessly.

So Randolph Carter thanked the Zoogs, who fluttered amicably and gave him another gourd of moon-tree wine to take with him, and set out through the phosphorescent wood for the other side, where the rushing Skai flows down from the slopes of Lerion, and Hatheg and Nir and Ulthar dot the plain. Behind him, furtive and unseen, crept several of the curious Zoogs; for they wished to learn what might befall him, and bear back the legend to their people. The vast oaks grew thicker as he pushed on beyond the village, and he looked sharply for a certain spot where they would thin somewhat, standing quite dead or dying among the unnaturally dense fungi and the rotting mould and mushy logs of their fallen brothers. There he would turn sharply aside, for at that spot a mighty slab of stone rests on the forest floor; and those who have dared approach it say that it bears an iron ring three feet wide. Remembering the archaic circle of great mossy rocks, and what it was possibly set up for, the Zoogs do not pause near that expansive slab with its huge ring; for they realise that all which is forgotten need not necessarily be dead, and they would not like to see the slab rise slowly and deliberately.

Carter detoured at the proper place, and heard behind him the frightened fluttering of some of the more timid Zoogs. He had known they would follow him, so he was not disturbed; for one grows accustomed to the anomalies of these prying creatures. It was twilight when he came to the edge of the wood, and the strengthening glow told him it was the twilight of morning. Over fertile plains rolling down to the Skai he saw the smoke of cottage chimneys, and on every hand were the hedges and ploughed fields and thatched roofs of a peaceful land. Once he stopped at a farmhouse well for a cup of water, and all the dogs barked affrightedly at the inconspicuous Zoogs that crept through the grass behind. At another house, where people were stirring, he asked questions about the gods, and whether they danced often upon Lerion; but the farmer and his wile would only make the Elder Sign and tell him the way to Nir and Ulthar.

At noon he walked through the one broad high street of Nir, which he had once visited and which marked his farthest former travels in this direction; and soon afterward he came to the great stone bridge across the Skai, into whose central piece the masons had sealed a living human sacrifice when they built it thirteen-hundred years before. Once on the other side, the frequent presence of cats (who all arched their backs at the trailing Zoogs) revealed the near neighborhood of Ulthar; for in Ulthar, according to an ancient and significant law, no man may kill a cat. Very pleasant were the suburbs of Ulthar, with their little green cottages and neatly fenced farms; and still pleasanter was the quaint town itself, with its old peaked roofs and overhanging upper stories and numberless chimney-pots and narrow hill streets where one can see old cobbles whenever the graceful cats afford space enough. Carter, the cats being somewhat dispersed by the half-seen Zoogs, picked his way directly to the modest Temple of the Elder Ones where the priests and old records were said to be; and once within that venerable circular tower of ivied stone - which crowns Ulthar's highest hill - he sought out the patriarch Atal, who had been up the forbidden peak Hatheg-Kia in the stony desert and had come down again alive.

Atal, seated on an ivory dais in a festooned shrine at the top of the temple, was fully three centuries old; but still very keen of mind and memory. From him Carter learned many things about the gods, but mainly that they are indeed only Earth's gods, ruling feebly our own dreamland and having no power or habitation elsewhere. They might, Atal said, heed a man's prayer if in good humour; but one must not think of climbing to their onyx stronghold atop Kadath in the cold waste. It was lucky that no man knew where Kadath towers, for the fruits of ascending it would be very grave. Atal's companion Banni the Wise had been drawn screaming into the sky for climbing merely the known peak of Hatheg-Kia. With unknown Kadath, if ever found, matters would be much worse; for although Earth's gods may sometimes be surpassed by a wise mortal, they are protected by the Other Gods from Outside, whom it is better not to discuss. At least twice in the world's history the Other Gods set their seal upon Earth's primal granite; once in antediluvian times, as guessed from a drawing in those parts of the Pnakotic Manuscripts too ancient to be read, and once on Hatheg-Kia when Barzai the Wise tried to see Earth's gods dancing by moonlight. So, Atal said, it would be much better to let all gods alone except in tactful prayers.

Carter, though disappointed by Atal's discouraging advice and by the meagre help to be found in the Pnakotic Manuscripts and the Seven Cryptical Books of Hsan, did not wholly despair. First he questioned the old priest about that marvellous sunset city seen from the railed terrace, thinking that perhaps he might find it without the gods' aid; but Atal could tell him nothing. Probably, Atal said, the place belonged to his especial dream world and not to the general land of vision that many know; and conceivably it might be on another planet. In that case Earth's gods could not guide him if they would. But this was not likely, since the stopping of the dreams shewed pretty clearly that it was something the Great Ones wished to hide from him.

Then Carter did a wicked thing, offering his guileless host so many draughts of the moon-wine which the Zoogs had given him that the old man became irresponsibly talkative. Robbed of his reserve, poor Atal babbled freely of forbidden things; telling of a great image reported by travellers as carved on the solid rock of the mountain Ngranek, on the isle of Oriab in the Southern Sea, and hinting that it may be a likeness which Earth's gods once wrought of their own features in the days when they danced by moonlight on that mountain. And he hiccoughed likewise that the features of that image are very strange, so that one might easily recognize them, and that they are sure signs of the authentic race of the gods.

Now the use of all this in finding the gods became at once apparent to Carter. It is known that in disguise the younger among the Great Ones often espouse the daughters of men, so that around the borders of the cold waste wherein stands Kadath the peasants must all bear their blood. This being so, the way to find that waste must be to see the stone face on Ngranek and mark the features; then, having noted them with care, to search for such features among living men. Where they are plainest and thickest, there must the gods dwell nearest; and whatever stony waste lies back of the villages in that place must be that wherein stands Kadath.

Much of the Great Ones might be learnt in such regions, and those with their blood might inherit little memories very useful to a seeker. They might not know their parentage, for the gods so dislike to be known among men that none can be found who has seen their faces wittingly; a thing which Carter realized even as he sought to scale Kadath. But they would have queer lofty thoughts misunderstood by their fellows, and would sing of far places and gardens so unlike any known even in the dreamland that common folk would call them fools; and from all this one could perhaps learn old secrets of Kadath, or gain hints of the marvellous sunset city which the gods held secret. And more, one might in certain cases seize some well-loved child of a god as hostage; or even capture some young god himself, disguised and dwelling amongst men with a comely peasant maiden as his bride.

Atal, however, did not know how to find Ngranek on its isle of Oriab; and recommended that Carter follow the singing Skai under its bridges down to the Southern Sea; where no burgess of Ulthar has ever been, but whence the merchants come in boats or with long caravans of mules and two-wheeled carts. There is a great city there, Dylath-Leen, but in Ulthar its reputation is bad because of the black three-banked galleys that sail to it with rubies from no clearly named shore. The traders that come from those galleys to deal with the jewellers are human, or nearly so, but the rowers are never beheld; and it is not thought wholesome in Ulthar that merchants should trade with black ships from unknown places whose rowers cannot be exhibited.

By the time he had given this information Atal was very drowsy, and Carter laid him gently on a couch of inlaid ebony and gathered his long beard decorously on his chest. As he turned to go, he observed that no suppressed fluttering followed him, and wondered why the Zoogs had become so lax in their curious pursuit. Then he noticed all the sleek complacent cats of Ulthar licking their chops with unusual gusto, and recalled the spitting and caterwauling he had faintly heard, in lower parts of the temple while absorbed in the old priest's conversation. He recalled, too, the evilly hungry way in which an especially impudent young Zoog had regarded a small black kitten in the cobbled street outside. And because he loved nothing on earth more than small black kittens, he stooped and petted the sleek cats of Ulthar as they licked their chops, and did not mourn because those inquisitive Zoogs would escort him no farther.

It was sunset now, so Carter stopped at an ancient inn on a steep little street overlooking the lower town. And as he went out on the balcony of his room and gazed down at the sea of red tiled roofs and cobbled ways and the pleasant fields beyond, all mellow and magical in the slanted light, he swore that Ulthar would be a very likely place to dwell in always, were not the memory of a greater sunset city ever goading one onward toward unknown perils. Then twilight fell, and the pink walls of the plastered gables turned violet and mystic, and little yellow lights floated up one by one from old lattice windows. And sweet bells pealed in. the temple tower above, and the first star winked softly above the meadows across the Skai. With the night came song, and Carter nodded as the lutanists praised ancient days from beyond the filigreed balconies and tesselated courts of simple Ulthar. And there might have been sweetness even in the voices of Ulthar's many cats, but that they were mostly heavy and silent from strange feasting. Some of them stole off to those cryptical realms which are known only to cats and which villagers say are on the moon's dark side, whither the cats leap from tall housetops, but one small black kitten crept upstairs and sprang in Carter's lap to purr and play, and curled up near his feet when he lay down at last on the little couch whose pillows were stuffed with fragrant, drowsy herbs.

In the morning Carter joined a caravan of merchants bound for Dylath-Leen with the spun wool of Ulthar and the cabbages of Ulthar's busy farms. And for six days they rode with tinkling bells on the smooth road beside the Skai; stopping some nights at the inns of little quaint fishing towns, and on other nights camping under the stars while snatches of boatmen's songs came from the placid river. The country was very beautiful, with green hedges and groves and picturesque peaked cottages and octagonal windmills.

On the seventh day a blur of smoke rose on the horizon ahead, and then the tall black towers of Dylath-Leen, which is built mostly of basalt. Dylath-Leen with its thin angular towers looks in the distance like a bit of the Giant's Causeway, and its streets are dark and uninviting. There are many dismal sea-taverns near the myriad wharves, and all the town is thronged with the strange seamen of every land on earth and of a few which are said to be not on earth. Carter questioned the oddly robed men of that city about the peak of Ngranek on the isle of Oriab, and found that they knew of it well.

Ships came from Baharna on that island, one being due to return thither in only a month, and Ngranek is but two days' zebra-ride from that port. But few had seen the stone face of the god, because it is on a very difficult side of Ngranek, which overlooks only sheer crags and a valley of sinister lava. Once the gods were angered with men on that side, and spoke of the matter to the Other Gods.

It was hard to get this information from the traders and sailors in Dylath-Leen's sea taverns, because they mostly preferred to whisper of the black galleys. One of them was due in a week with rubies from its unknown shore, and the townsfolk dreaded to see it dock. The mouths of the men who came from it to trade were too wide, and the way their turbans were humped up in two points above their foreheads was in especially bad taste. And their shoes were the shortest and queerest ever seen in the Six Kingdoms. But worst of all was the matter of the unseen rowers. Those three banks of oars moved too briskly and accurately and vigorously to be comfortable, and it was not right for a ship to stay in port for weeks while the merchants traded, yet to give no glimpse of its crew. It was not fair to the tavern-keepers of Dylath-Leen, or to the grocers and butchers, either; for not a scrap of provisions was ever sent aboard. The merchants took only gold and stout black slaves from Parg across the river. That was all they ever took, those unpleasantly featured merchants and their unseen rowers; never anything from the butchers and grocers, but only gold and the fat black men of Parg whom they bought by the pound. And the odours from those galleys which the south wind blew in from the wharves are not to be described. Only by constantly smoking strong thagweed could even the hardiest denizen of the old sea-taverns bear them. Dylath-Leen would never have tolerated the black galleys had such rubies been obtainable elsewhere, but no mine in all Barth's dreamland was known to produce their like.

Of these things Dylath-Leen's cosmopolitan folk chiefly gossiped whilst Carter waited patiently for the ship from Baharna, which might bear him to the isle whereon carven Ngranek towers lofty and barren. Meanwhile he did not fall to seek through the haunts of far travellers for any tales they might have concerning Kadath in the cold waste or a marvellous city of marble walls and silver fountains seen below terraces in the sunset. Of these things, however, he learned nothing; though he once thought that a certain old slant-eyed merchant looked queerly intelligent when the cold waste was spoken of. This man was reputed to trade with the horrible stone villages on the icy desert plateau of Leng, which no healthy folk visit and whose evil fires are seen at night from afar. He was even rumoured to have dealt with that High-Priest Not To Be Described, which wears a yellow silken mask over its face and dwells all alone in a prehistoric stone monastery. That such a person might well have had nibbling traffick with such beings as may conceivably dwell in the cold waste was not to be doubted, but Carter soon found that it was no use questioning him.

Then the black galley slipped into the harbour past the basalt wale and the tall lighthouse, silent and alien, and with a strange stench that the south wind drove into the town. Uneasiness rustled through the taverns along that waterfront, and after a while the dark wide-mouthed merchants with humped turbans and short feet clumped steathily ashore to seek the bazaars of the jewellers. Carter observed them closely, and disliked them more the longer he looked at them. Then he saw them drive the stout black men of Parg up the gangplank grunting and sweating into that singular galley, and wondered in what lands - or if in any lands at all - those fat pathetic creatures might be destined to serve.

And on the third evening of that galley's stay one of the uncomfortable merchants spoke to him, smirking sinfully and hinting of what he had heard in the taverns of Carter's quest. He appeared to have knowledge too secret for public telling; and although the sound of his voice was unbearably hateful, Carter felt that the lore of so far a traveller must not be overlooked. He bade him therefore be his guest in locked chambers above, and drew out the last of the Zoogs' moon-wine to loosen his tongue. The strange merchant drank heavily, but smirked unchanged by the draught. Then he drew forth a curious bottle with wine of his own, and Carter saw that the bottle was a single hollowed ruby, grotesquely carved in patterns too fabulous to be comprehended. He offered his wine to his host, and though Carter took only the least sip, he felt the dizziness of space and the fever of unimagined jungles. All the while the guest had been smiling more and more broadly, and as Carter slipped into blankness the last thing he saw was that dark odious face convulsed with evil laughter and something quite unspeakable where one of the two frontal puffs of that orange turban had become disarranged with the shakings of that epileptic mirth.

Carter next had consciousness amidst horrible odours beneath a tent-like awning on the deck of a ship, with the marvellous coasts of the Southern Sea flying by in unnatural swiftness. He was not chained, but three of the dark sardonic merchants stood grinning nearby, and the sight of those humps in their turbans made him almost as faint as did the stench that filtered up through the sinister hatches. He saw slip past him the glorious lands and cities of which a fellow-dreamer of earth - a lighthouse-keeper in ancient Kingsport - had often discoursed in the old days, and recognized the templed terraces of Zak, abode of forgotten dreams; the spires of infamous Thalarion, that daemon-city of a thousand wonders where the eidolon Lathi reigns; the charnel gardens of Zura, land of pleasures unattained, and the twin headlands of crystal, meeting above in a resplendent arch, which guard the harbour of Sona-Nyl, blessed land of fancy.

Past all these gorgeous lands the malodourous ship flew unwholesomely, urged by the abnormal strokes of those unseen rowers below. And before the day was done Carter saw that the steersman could have no other goal than the Basalt Pillars of the West, beyond which simple folk say splendid Cathuria lies, but which wise dreamers well know are the gates of a monstrous cataract wherein the oceans of earth's dreamland drop wholly to abysmal nothingness and shoot through the empty spaces toward other worlds and other stars and the awful voids outside the ordered universe where the daemon sultan Azathoth gnaws hungrily in chaos amid pounding and piping and the hellish dancing of the Other Gods, blind, voiceless, tenebrous, and mindless, with their soul and messenger Nyarlathotep.

Meanwhile the three sardonic merchants would give no word of their intent, though Carter well knew that they must be leagued with those who wished to hold him from his quest. It is understood in the land of dream that the Other Gods have many agents moving among men; and all these agents, whether wholly human or slightly less than human, are eager to work the will of those blind and mindless things in return for the favour of their hideous soul and messenger, the crawling chaos Nyarlathotep. So Carter inferred that the merchants of the humped turbans, hearing of his daring search for the Great Ones in their castle of Kadath, had decided to take him away and deliver him to Nyarlathotep for whatever nameless bounty might be offered for such a prize. What might be the land of those merchants in our known universe or in the eldritch spaces outside, Carter could not guess; nor could he imagine at what hellish trysting-place they would meet the crawling chaos to give him up and claim their reward. He knew, however, that no beings as nearly human as these would dare approach the ultimate nighted throne of the daemon Azathoth in the formless central void.

At the set of sun the merchants licked their excessively wide lips and glared hungrily and one of them went below and returned from some hidden and offensive cabin with a pot and basket of plates. Then they squatted close together beneath the awning and ate the smoking meat that was passed around. But when they gave Carter a portion, he found something very terrible in the size and shape of it; so that he turned even paler than before and cast that portion into the sea when no eye was on him. And again he thought of those unseen rowers beneath, and of the suspicious nourishment from which their far too mechanical strength was derived.

It was dark when the galley passed betwixt the Basalt Pillars of the West and the sound of the ultimate cataract swelled portentous from ahead. And the spray of that cataract rose to obscure the stars, and the deck grew damp, and the vessel reeled in the surging current of the brink. Then with a queer whistle and plunge the leap was taken, and Carter felt the terrors of nightmare as earth fell away and the great boat shot silent and comet-like into planetary space. Never before had he known what shapeless black things lurk and caper and flounder all through the aether, leering and grinning at such voyagers as may pass, and sometimes feeling about with slimy paws when some moving object excites their curiosity. These are the nameless larvae of the Other Gods, and like them are blind and without mind, and possessed of singular hungers and thirsts.

But that offensive galley did not aim as far as Carter had feared, for he soon saw that the helmsman was steering a course directly for the moon. The moon was a crescent shining larger and larger as they approached it, and shewing its singular craters and peaks uncomfortably. The ship made for the edge, and it soon became clear that its destination was that secret and mysterious side which is always turned away from earth, and which no fully human person, save perhaps the dreamer Snireth-Ko, has ever beheld. The close aspect of the moon as the galley drew near proved very disturbing to Carter, and he did not like the size and shape of the ruins which crumbled here and there. The dead temples on the mountains were so placed that they could have glorified no suitable or wholesome gods, and in the symmetries of the broken columns there seemed to be some dark and inner meaning which did not invite solution. And what the structure and proportions of the olden worshippers could have been, Carter steadily refused to conjecture.

When the ship rounded the edge, and sailed over those lands unseen by man, there appeared in the queer landscape certain signs of life, and Carter saw many low, broad, round cottages in fields of grotesque whitish fungi. He noticed that these cottages had no windows, and thought that their shape suggested the huts of Esquimaux. Then he glimpsed the oily waves of a sluggish sea, and knew that the voyage was once more to be by water - or at least through some liquid. The galley struck the surface with a peculiar sound, and the odd elastic way the waves received it was very perplexing to Carter.

They now slid along at great speed, once passing and hailing another galley of kindred form, but generally seeing nothing but that curious sea and a sky that was black and star-strewn even though the sun shone scorchingly in it.

There presently rose ahead the jagged hills of a leprous-looking coast, and Carter saw the thick unpleasant grey towers of a city. The way they leaned and bent, the manner in which they were clustered, and the fact that they had no windows at all, was very disturbing to the prisoner; and he bitterly mourned the folly which had made him sip the curious wine of that merchant with the humped turban. As the coast drew nearer, and the hideous stench of that city grew stronger, he saw upon the jagged hills many forests, some of whose trees he recognized as akin to that solitary moon-tree in the enchanted wood of earth, from whose sap the small brown Zoogs ferment their curious wine.

Carter could now distinguish moving figures on the noisome wharves ahead, and the better he saw them the worse he began to fear and detest them. For they were not men at all, or even approximately men, but great greyish-white slippery things which could expand and contract at will, and whose principal shape - though it often changed - was that of a sort of toad without any eyes, but with a curious vibrating mass of short pink tentacles on the end of its blunt, vague snout. These objects were waddling busily about the wharves, moving bales and crates and boxes with preternatural strength, and now and then hopping on or off some anchored galley with long oars in their forepaws. And now and then one would appear driving a herd of clumping slaves, which indeed were approximate human beings with wide mouths like those merchants who traded in Dylath-Leen; only these herds, being without turbans or shoes or clothing, did not seem so very human after all. Some of the slaves - the fatter ones, whom a sort of overseer would pinch experimentally - were unloaded from ships and nailed in crates which workers pushed into the low warehouses or loaded on great lumbering vans.

Once a van was hitched and driven off, and the, fabulous thing which drew it was such that Carter gasped, even after having seen the other monstrosities of that hateful place. Now and then a small herd of slaves dressed and turbaned like the dark merchants would be driven aboard a galley, followed by a great crew of the slippery toad-things as officers, navigators, and rowers. And Carter saw that the almost-human creatures were reserved for the more ignominious kinds of servitude which required no strength, such as steering and cooking, fetching and carrying, and bargaining with men on the earth or other planets where they traded. These creatures must have been convenient on earth, for they were truly not unlike men when dressed and carefully shod and turbaned, and could haggle in the shops of men without embarrassment or curious explanations. But most of them, unless lean or ill-favoured, were unclothed and packed in crates and drawn off in lumbering lorries by fabulous things. Occasionally other beings were unloaded and crated; some very like these semi-humans, some not so similar, and some not similar at all. And he wondered if any of the poor stout black men of Parg were left to be unloaded and crated and shipped inland in those obnoxious drays.

When the galley landed at a greasy-looking quay of spongy rock a nightmare horde of toad-things wiggled out of the hatches, and two of them seized Carter and dragged him ashore. The smell and aspect of that city are beyond telling, and Carter held only scattered images of the tiled streets and black doorways and endless precipices of grey vertical walls without windows. At length he was dragged within a low doorway and made to climb infinite steps in pitch blackness. It was, apparently, all one to the toad-things whether it were light or dark. The odour of the place was intolerable, and when Carter was locked into a chamber and left alone he scarcely had strength to crawl around and ascertain its form and dimensions. It was circular, and about twenty feet across.

From then on time ceased to exist. At intervals food was pushed in, but Carter would not touch it. What his fate would be, he did not know; but he felt that he was held for the coming of that frightful soul and messenger of infinity's Other Gods, the crawling chaos Nyarlathotep. Finally, after an unguessed span of hours or days, the great stone door swung wide again, and Carter was shoved down the stairs and out into the red-litten streets of that fearsome city. It was night on the moon, and all through the town were stationed slaves bearing torches.

In a detestable square a sort of procession was formed; ten of the toad-things and twenty-four almost human torch-bearers, eleven on either side, and one each before and behind. Carter was placed in the middle of the line; five toad-things ahead and five behind, and one almost-human torch-bearer on either side of him. Certain of the toad-things produced disgustingly carven flutes of ivory and made loathsome sounds. To that hellish piping the column advanced out of the tiled streets and into nighted plains of obscene fungi, soon commencing to climb one of the lower and more gradual hills that lay behind the city. That on some frightful slope or blasphemous plateau the crawling chaos waited, Carter could not doubt; and he wished that the suspense might soon be over. The whining of those impious flutes was shocking, and he would have given worlds for some even half-normal sound; but these toad-things had no voices, and the slaves did not talk.

Then through that star-specked darkness there did come a normal sound. It rolled from the higher hills, and from all the jagged peaks around it was caught up and echoed in a swelling pandaemoniac chorus. It was the midnight yell of the cat, and Carter knew at last that the old village folk were right when they made low guesses about the cryptical realms which are known only to cats, and to which the elders among cats repair by stealth nocturnally, springing from high housetops. Verily, it is to the moon's dark side that they go to leap and gambol on the hills and converse with ancient shadows, and here amidst that column of foetid things Carter heard their homely, friendly cry, and thought of the steep roofs and warm hearths and little lighted windows of home.

Now much of the speech of cats was known to Randolph Carter, and in this far terrible place he uttered the cry that was suitable. But that he need not have done, for even as his lips opened he heard the chorus wax and draw nearer, and saw swift shadows against the stars as small graceful shapes leaped from hill to hill in gathering legions. The call of the clan had been given, and before the foul procession had time even to be frightened a cloud of smothering fur and a phalanx of murderous claws were tidally and tempestuously upon it. The flutes stopped, and there were shrieks in the night. Dying almost-humans screamed, and cats spit and yowled and roared, but the toad-things made never a sound as their stinking green ichor oozed fatally upon that porous earth with the obscene fungi.

It was a stupendous sight while the torches lasted, and Carter had never before seen so many cats. Black, grey, and white; yellow, tiger, and mixed; common, Persian, and Marix; Thibetan, Angora, and Egyptian; all were there in the fury of battle, and there hovered over them some trace of that profound and inviolate sanctity which made their goddess great in the temples of Bubastis. They would leap seven strong at the throat of an almost-human or the pink tentacled snout of a toad-thing and drag it down savagely to the fungous plain, where myriads of their fellows would surge over it and into it with the frenzied claws and teeth of a divine battle-fury. Carter had seized a torch from a stricken slave, but was soon overborne by the surging waves of his loyal defenders. Then he lay in the utter blackness hearing the clangour of war and the shouts of the victors, and feeling the soft paws of his friends as they rushed to and fro over him in the fray.

At last awe and exhaustion closed his eyes, and when he opened them again it was upon a strange scene. The great shining disc of the earth, thirteen times greater than that of the moon as we see it, had risen with floods of weird light over the lunar landscape; and across all those leagues of wild plateau and ragged crest there squatted one endless sea of cats in orderly array. Circle on circle they reached, and two or three leaders out of the ranks were licking his face and purring to him consolingly. Of the dead slaves and toad-things there were not many signs, but Carter thought he saw one bone a little way off in the open space between him and the warriors.

Carter now spoke with the leaders in the soft language of cats, and learned that his ancient friendship with the species was well known and often spoken of in the places where cats congregate. He had not been unmarked in Ulthar when he passed through, and the sleek old cats had remembered how he patted them after they had attended to the hungry Zoogs who looked evilly at a small black kitten. And they recalled, too, how he had welcomed the very little kitten who came to see him at the inn, and how he had given it a saucer of rich cream in the morning before he left. The grandfather of that very little kitten was the leader of the army now assembled, for he had seen the evil procession from a far hill and recognized the prisoner as a sworn friend of his kind on earth and in the land of dream.

A yowl now came from the farther peak, and the old leader paused abruptly in his conversation. It was one of the army's outposts, stationed on the highest of the mountains to watch the one foe which Earth's cats fear; the very large and peculiar cats from Saturn, who for some reason have not been oblivious of the charm of our moon's dark side. They are leagued by treaty with the evil toad-things, and are notoriously hostile to our earthly cats; so that at this juncture a meeting would have been a somewhat grave matter.

After a brief consultation of generals, the cats rose and assumed a closer formation, crowding protectingly around Carter and preparing to take the great leap through space back to the housetops of our earth and its dreamland. The old field-marshal advised Carter to let himself be borne along smoothly and passively in the massed ranks of furry leapers, and told him how to spring when the rest sprang and land gracefully when the rest landed. He also offered to deposit him in any spot he desired, and Carter decided on the city of Dylath-Leen whence the black galley had set out; for he wished to sail thence for Oriab and the carven crest Ngranek, and also to warn the people of the city to have no more traffick with black galleys, if indeed that traffick could be tactfully and judiciously broken off. Then, upon a signal, the cats all leaped gracefully with their friend packed securely in their midst; while in a black cave on an unhallowed summit of the moon-mountains still vainly waited the crawling chaos Nyarlathotep.

The leap of the cats through space was very swift; and being surrounded by his companions Carter did not see this time the great black shapelessnesses that lurk and caper and flounder in the abyss. Before he fully realised what had happened he was back in his familiar room at the inn at Dylath-Leen, and the stealthy, friendly cats were pouring out of the window in streams. The old leader from Ulthar was the last to leave, and as Carter shook his paw he said he would be able to get home by cockcrow. When dawn came, Carter went downstairs and learned that a week had elapsed since his capture and leaving. There was still nearly a fortnight to wait for the ship bound toward Oriab, and during that time he said what he could against the black galleys and their infamous ways. Most of the townsfolk believed him; yet so fond were the jewellers of great rubies that none would wholly promise to cease trafficking with the wide-mouthed merchants. If aught of evil ever befalls Dylath-Leen through such traffick, it will not be his fault.

In about a week the desiderate ship put in by the black wale and tall lighthouse, and Carter was glad to see that she was a barque of wholesome men, with painted sides and yellow lateen sails and a grey captain in silken robes. Her cargo was the fragrant resin of Oriab's inner groves, and the delicate pottery baked by the artists of Bahama, and the strange little figures carved from Ngranek's ancient lava. For this they were paid in the wool of Ulthar and the iridescent textiles of Hatheg and the ivory that the black men carve across the river in Parg. Carter made arrangements with the captain to go to Baharna and was told that the voyage would take ten days. And during his week of waiting he talked much with that captain of Ngranek, and was told that very few had seen the carven face thereon; but that most travellers are content to learn its legends from old people and lava-gatherers and image-makers in Baharna and afterward say in their far homes that they have indeed beheld it. The captain was not even sure that any person now living had beheld that carven face, for the wrong side of Ngranek is very difficult and barren and sinister, and there are rumours of caves near the peak wherein dwell the night-gaunts. But the captain did not wish to say just what a night-gaunt might be like, since such cattle are known to haunt most persistently the dreams of those who think too often of them. Then Carter asked that captain about unknown Kadath in the cold waste, and the marvellous sunset city, but of these the good man could truly tell nothing.

Carter sailed out of Dylath-Leen one early morning when the tide turned, and saw the first rays of sunrise on the thin angular towers of that dismal basalt town. And for two days they sailed eastward in sight of green coasts, and saw often the pleasant fishing towns that climbed up steeply with their red roofs and chimney-pots from old dreaming wharves and beaches where nets lay drying. But on the third day they turned sharply south where the roll of water was stronger, and soon passed from sight of any land. On the fifth day the sailors were nervous, but the captain apologized for their fears, saying that the ship was about to pass over the weedy walls and broken columns of a sunken city too old for memory, and that when the water was clear one could see so many moving shadows in that deep place that simple folk disliked it. He admitted, moreover, that many ships had been lost in that part of the sea; having been hailed when quite close to it, but never seen again.

That night the moon was very bright, and one could see a great way down in the water. There was so little wind that the ship could not move much, and the ocean was very calm. Looking over the rail Carter saw many fathoms deep the dome of the great temple, and in front of it an avenue of unnatural sphinxes leading to what was once a public square. Dolphins sported merrily in and out of the ruins, and porpoises revelled clumsily here and there, sometimes coming to the surface and leaping clear out of the sea. As the ship drifted on a little the floor of the ocean rose in hills, and one could clearly mark the lines of ancient climbing streets and the washed-down walls of myriad little houses.

Then the suburbs appeared, and finally a great lone building on a hill, of simpler architecture than the other structures, and in much better repair. It was dark and low and covered four sides of a square, with a tower at each corner, a paved court in the centre, and small curious round windows all over it. Probably it was of basalt, though weeds draped the greater part; and such was its lonely and impressive place on that far hill that it may have been a temple or a monastery. Some phosphorescent fish inside it gave the small round windows an aspect of shining, and Carter did not blame the sailors much for their fears. Then by the watery moonlight he noticed an odd high monolith in the middle of that central court, and saw that something was tied to it. And when after getting a telescope from the captain's cabin he saw that that bound thing was a sailor in the silk robes of Oriab, head downward and without any eyes, he was glad that a rising breeze soon took the ship ahead to more healthy parts of the sea.

The next day they spoke with a ship with violet sails bound for Zar, in the land of forgotten dreams, with bulbs of strange coloured lilies for cargo. And on the evening of the eleventh day they came in sight of the isle of Oriab with Ngranek rising jagged and snow-crowned in the distance. Oriab is a very great isle, and its port of Bahama a mighty city. The wharves of Bahama are of porphyry, and the city rises in great stone terraces behind them, having streets of steps that are frequently arched over by buildings and the bridges between buildings. There is a great canal which goes under the whole city in a tunnel with granite gates and leads to the inland lake of Yath, on whose farther shore are the vast clay-brick ruins of a primal city whose name is not remembered. As the ship drew into the harbour at evening the twin beacons Thon and Thal gleamed a WHALECUM, and in all the million windows of Bahama's terraces mellow lights peeped out quietly and gradually as the stars peep out overhead in the dusk, till that steep and climbing seaport became a glittering constellation hung between the stars of heaven and the reflections of those stars in the still harbour.

The captain, after landing, made Carter a guest in his own small house on the shores of Yath where the rear of the town slopes down to it; and his wife and servants brought strange toothsome foods for the traveller's delight. And in the days after that Carter asked for rumours and legends of Ngranek in all the taverns and public places where lava-gatherers and image-makers meet, but could find no one who had been up the higher slopes or seen the carven face. Ngranek was a hard mountain with only an accursed valley behind it, and besides, one could never depend on the certainty that night-gaunts are altogether fabulous.

When the captain sailed hack to Dylath-Leen Carter took quarters in an ancient tavern opening on an alley of steps in the original part of the town, which is built of brick and resembles the ruins of Yath's farther shore. Here he laid his plans for the ascent of Ngranek, and correlated all that he had learned from the lava-gatherers about the roads thither. The keeper of the tavern was a very old man, and had heard so many legends that he was a great help. He even took Carter to an upper room in that ancient house and shewed him a crude picture which a traveller had scratched on t

_________________
The Flesh of Fallen Angels! Come to me all! Asteroth,

Beelzebub, Asmodeus, Bapholada, Lucifer, Loki, Satan,

Cthulhu, Lilith, Della! Blood, to you all!

I'm the wolf, yeah!
I am the wolf! It's close, it's coming. You have come.
The witness to the end, of time. It's now! I will rise to
her side! I don't need the words!
I'm beyond the words!
Image

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The Arabian Nights Entertainments,
Selected and Edited by Andrew Lang

after the edition of
Longmans, Green and Co, 1918 (1898)






Preface


The stories in the Fairy Books have generally been such as old
women in country places tell to their grandchildren. Nobody knows
how old they are, or who told them first. The children of Ham,
Shem and Japhet may have listened to them in the Ark, on wet days.
Hector's little boy may have heard them in Troy Town, for it is
certain that Homer knew them, and that some of them were written
down in Egypt about the time of Moses.

People in different countries tell them differently, but they
are always the same stories, really, whether among little Zulus,
at the Cape, or little Eskimo, near the North Pole. The changes
are only in matters of manners and customs; such as wearing clothes
or not, meeting lions who talk in the warm countries, or talking
bears in the cold countries. There are plenty of kings and queens
in the fairy tales, just because long ago there were plenty of kings
in the country. A gentleman who would be a squire now was a kind
of king in Scotland in very old times, and the same in other places.
These old stories, never forgotten, were taken down in writing in
different ages, but mostly in this century, in all sorts of languages.
These ancient stories are the contents of the Fairy books.

Now "The Arabian Nights," some of which, but not nearly all,
are given in this volume, are only fairy tales of the East.
The people of Asia, Arabia, and Persia told them in their own way,
not for children, but for grown-up people. There were no novels then,
nor any printed books, of course; but there were people whose profession
it was to amuse men and women by telling tales. They dressed
the fairy stories up, and made the characters good Mahommedans,
living in Bagdad or India. The events were often supposed to
happen in the reign of the great Caliph, or ruler of the Faithful,
Haroun al Raschid, who lived in Bagdad in 786-808 A.D. The vizir
who accompanies the Caliph was also a real person of the great family
of the Barmecides. He was put to death by the Caliph in a very
cruel way, nobody ever knew why. The stories must have been told
in their present shape a good long while after the Caliph died,
when nobody knew very exactly what had really happened. At last
some storyteller thought of writing down the tales, and fixing
them into a kind of framework, as if they had all been narrated
to a cruel Sultan by his wife. Probably the tales were written
down about the time when Edward I. was fighting Robert Bruce.
But changes were made in them at different times, and a great deal
that is very dull and stupid was put in, and plenty of verses.
Neither the verses nor the dull pieces are given in this book.

People in France and England knew almost nothing about "The
Arabian Nights" till the reigns of Queen Anne and George I.,
when they were translated into French by Monsieur Galland.
Grown-up people were then very fond of fairy tales, and they thought
these Arab stories the best that they had ever read. They were
delighted with Ghouls (who lived among the tombs) and Geni, who seemed
to be a kind of ogres, and with Princesses who work magic spells,
and with Peris, who are Arab fairies. Sindbad had adventures which
perhaps came out of the Odyssey of Homer; in fact, all the East
had contributed its wonders, and sent them to Europe in one parcel.
Young men once made a noise at Monsieur Galland's windows in the dead
of night, and asked him to tell them one of his marvellous tales.
Nobody talked of anything but dervishes and vizirs, rocs and peris.
The stories were translated from French into all languages,
and only Bishop Atterbury complained that the tales were not likely
to be true, and had no moral. The bishop was presently banished
for being on the side of Prince Charlie's father, and had leisure
to repent of being so solemn.

In this book "The Arabian Nights" are translated from the French version
of Monsieur Galland, who dropped out the poetry and a great deal of what
the Arabian authors thought funny, though it seems wearisome to us.
In this book the stories are shortened here and there, and omissions
are made of pieces only suitable for Arabs and old gentlemen.
The translations are by the writers of the tales in the Fairy Books,
and the pictures are by Mr. Ford.

I can remember reading "The Arabian Nights" when I was six years old,
in dirty yellow old volumes of small type with no pictures, and I
hope children who read them with Mr. Ford's pictures will be as happy
as I was then in the company of Aladdin and Sindbad the Sailor.



The Arabian Nights


In the chronicles of the ancient dynasty of the Sassanidae,
who reigned for about four hundred years, from Persia to the borders
of China, beyond the great river Ganges itself, we read the praises
of one of the kings of this race, who was said to be the best
monarch of his time. His subjects loved him, and his neighbors
feared him, and when he died he left his kingdom in a more prosperous
and powerful condition than any king had done before him.

The two sons who survived him loved each other tenderly, and it was
a real grief to the elder, Schahriar, that the laws of the empire
forbade him to share his dominions with his brother Schahzeman.
Indeed, after ten years, during which this state of things had
not ceased to trouble him, Schahriar cut off the country of Great
Tartary from the Persian Empire and made his brother king.

Now the Sultan Schahriar had a wife whom he loved more than all the world,
and his greatest happiness was to surround her with splendour,
and to give her the finest dresses and the most beautiful jewels.
It was therefore with the deepest shame and sorrow that he
accidentally discovered, after several years, that she had deceived
him completely, and her whole conduct turned out to have been so bad,
that he felt himself obliged to carry out the law of the land,
and order the grand-vizir to put her to death. The blow was so
heavy that his mind almost gave way, and he declared that he was
quite sure that at bottom all women were as wicked as the sultana,
if you could only find them out, and that the fewer the world
contained the better. So every evening he married a fresh wife
and had her strangled the following morning before the grand-vizir,
whose duty it was to provide these unhappy brides for the Sultan.
The poor man fulfilled his task with reluctance, but there was
no escape, and every day saw a girl married and a wife dead.

This behaviour caused the greatest horror in the town, where nothing
was heard but cries and lamentations. In one house was a father weeping
for the loss of his daughter, in another perhaps a mother trembling
for the fate of her child; and instead of the blessings that had
formerly been heaped on the Sultan's head, the air was now full of curses.

The grand-vizir himself was the father of two daughters, of whom
the elder was called Scheherazade, and the younger Dinarzade.
Dinarzade had no particular gifts to distinguish her from other girls,
but her sister was clever and courageous in the highest degree.
Her father had given her the best masters in philosophy, medicine,
history and the fine arts, and besides all this, her beauty excelled
that of any girl in the kingdom of Persia.

One day, when the grand-vizir was talking to his eldest daughter,
who was his delight and pride, Scheherazade said to him, "Father, I
have a favour to ask of you. Will you grant it to me?"

"I can refuse you nothing," replied he, "that is just and reasonable."

"Then listen," said Scheherazade. "I am determined to stop this
barbarous practice of the Sultan's, and to deliver the girls
and mothers from the awful fate that hangs over them."

"It would be an excellent thing to do," returned the grand-vizir,
"but how do you propose to accomplish it?"

"My father," answered Scheherazade, "it is you who have to provide
the Sultan daily with a fresh wife, and I implore you, by all
the affection you bear me, to allow the honour to fall upon me."

"Have you lost your senses?" cried the grand-vizir, starting back
in horror. "What has put such a thing into your head? You ought
to know by this time what it means to be the sultan's bride!"

"Yes, my father, I know it well," replied she, "and I am not afraid
to think of it. If I fail, my death will be a glorious one,
and if I succeed I shall have done a great service to my country."

"It is of no use," said the grand-vizir, "I shall never consent.
If the Sultan was to order me to plunge a dagger in your heart,
I should have to obey. What a task for a father! Ah, if you do not
fear death, fear at any rate the anguish you would cause me."

"Once again, my father," said Scheherazade, "will you grant me
what I ask?"

"What, are you still so obstinate?" exclaimed the grand-vizir. "Why
are you so resolved upon your own ruin?"

But the maiden absolutely refused to attend to her father's words,
and at length, in despair, the grand-vizir was obliged to give way,
and went sadly to the palace to tell the Sultan that the following
evening he would bring him Scheherazade.

The Sultan received this news with the greatest astonishment.

"How have you made up your mind," he asked, "to sacrifice your own
daughter to me?"

"Sire," answered the grand-vizir, "it is her own wish. Even the sad
fate that awaits her could not hold her back."

"Let there be no mistake, vizir," said the Sultan. "Remember you
will have to take her life yourself. If you refuse, I swear
that your head shall pay forfeit."

"Sire," returned the vizir. "Whatever the cost, I will obey you.
Though a father, I am also your subject." So the Sultan told the
grand-vizir he might bring his daughter as soon as he liked.

The vizir took back this news to Scheherazade, who received
it as if it had been the most pleasant thing in the world.
She thanked her father warmly for yielding to her wishes, and,
seeing him still bowed down with grief, told him that she hoped
he would never repent having allowed her to marry the Sultan.
Then she went to prepare herself for the marriage, and begged
that her sister Dinarzade should be sent for to speak to her.

When they were alone, Scheherazade addressed her thus:

"My dear sister; I want your help in a very important affair.
My father is going to take me to the palace to celebrate my marriage
with the Sultan. When his Highness receives me, I shall beg him,
as a last favour, to let you sleep in our chamber, so that I may
have your company during the last night I am alive. If, as I hope,
he grants me my wish, be sure that you wake me an hour before
the dawn, and speak to me in these words: 'My sister, if you are
not asleep, I beg you, before the sun rises, to tell me one of your
charming stories.' Then I shall begin, and I hope by this means
to deliver the people from the terror that reigns over them."
Dinarzade replied that she would do with pleasure what her
sister wished.

When the usual hour arrived the grand-vizir conducted Scheherazade
to the palace, and left her alone with the Sultan, who bade her raise
her veil and was amazed at her beauty. But seeing her eyes full
of tears, he asked what was the matter. "Sire," replied Scheherazade,
"I have a sister who loves me as tenderly as I love her. Grant me
the favour of allowing her to sleep this night in the same room,
as it is the last we shall be together." Schahriar consented
to Scheherazade's petition and Dinarzade was sent for.

An hour before daybreak Dinarzade awoke, and exclaimed, as she
had promised, "My dear sister, if you are not asleep, tell me I
pray you, before the sun rises, one of your charming stories.
It is the last time that I shall have the pleasure of hearing you."

Scheherazade did not answer her sister, but turned to the Sultan.
"Will your highness permit me to do as my sister asks?" said she.

"Willingly," he answered. So Scheherazade began.



The Story of the Merchant and the Genius


Sire, there was once upon a time a merchant who possessed great wealth,
in land and merchandise, as well as in ready money. He was obliged
from time to time to take journeys to arrange his affairs.
One day, having to go a long way from home, he mounted his horse,
taking with him a small wallet in which he had put a few biscuits
and dates, because he had to pass through the desert where no food
was to be got. He arrived without any mishap, and, having finished
his business, set out on his return. On the fourth day of his journey,
the heat of the sun being very great, he turned out of his road
to rest under some trees. He found at the foot of a large
walnut-tree a fountain of clear and running water. He dismounted,
fastened his horse to a branch of the tree, and sat by the fountain,
after having taken from his wallet some of his dates and biscuits.
When he had finished this frugal meal he washed his face and hands
in the fountain.

When he was thus employed he saw an enormous genius, white with rage,
coming towards him, with a scimitar in his hand.

"Arise," he cried in a terrible voice, "and let me kill you as you
have killed my son!"

As he uttered these words he gave a frightful yell. The merchant,
quite as much terrified at the hideous face of the monster as at
his words, answered him tremblingly, "Alas, good sir, what can I
have done to you to deserve death?"

"I shall kill you," repeated the genius, "as you have killed my son."

"But," said the merchant, "how can I have killed your son?
I do not know him, and I have never even seen him."

"When you arrived here did you not sit down on the ground?"
asked the genius, "and did you not take some dates from your wallet,
and whilst eating them did not you throw the stones about?"

"Yes," said the merchant, "I certainly did so."

"Then," said the genius, "I tell you you have killed my son,
for whilst you were throwing about the stones, my son passed by,
and one of them struck him in the eye and killed him. So I shall
kill you."

"Ah, sir, forgive me!" cried the merchant.

"I will have no mercy on you," answered the genius.

"But I killed your son quite unintentionally, so I implore you
to spare my life."

"No," said the genius, "I shall kill you as you killed my son,"
and so saying, he seized the merchant by the arm, threw him on
the ground, and lifted his sabre to cut off his head.

The merchant, protesting his innocence, bewailed his wife
and children, and tried pitifully to avert his fate. The genius,
with his raised scimitar, waited till he had finished, but was
not in the least touched.

Scheherazade, at this point, seeing that it was day, and knowing
that the Sultan always rose very early to attend the council,
stopped speaking.

"Indeed, sister," said Dinarzade, "this is a wonderful story."

"The rest is still more wonderful," replied Scheherazade, "and you
would say so, if the sultan would allow me to live another day,
and would give me leave to tell it to you the next night."

Schahriar, who had been listening to Scheherazade with pleasure,
said to himself, "I will wait till to-morrow; I can always have her
killed when I have heard the end of her story."

All this time the grand-vizir was in a terrible state of anxiety.
But he was much delighted when he saw the Sultan enter the council-chamber
without giving the terrible command that he was expecting.

The next morning, before the day broke, Dinarzade said to her sister,
"Dear sister, if you are awake I pray you to go on with your story."

The Sultan did not wait for Scheherazade to ask his leave.
"Finish," said he, "the story of the genius and the merchant.
I am curious to hear the end."

So Scheherazade went on with the story. This happened every morning.
The Sultana told a story, and the Sultan let her live to finish it.

When the merchant saw that the genius was determined to cut off his head,
he said: "One word more, I entreat you. Grant me a little delay;
just a short time to go home and bid my wife and children farewell,
and to make my will. When I have done this I will come back here,
and you shall kill me."

"But," said the genius, "if I grant you the delay you ask, I am
afraid that you will not come back."

"I give you my word of honour," answered the merchant, "that I
will come back without fail."

"How long do you require?" asked the genius.

"I ask you for a year's grace," replied the merchant. "I promise
you that to-morrow twelvemonth, I shall be waiting under these trees
to give myself up to you."

On this the genius left him near the fountain and disappeared.

The merchant, having recovered from his fright, mounted his horse
and went on his road.

When he arrived home his wife and children received him with the
greatest joy. But instead of embracing them he began to weep so
bitterly that they soon guessed that something terrible was the matter.

"Tell us, I pray you," said his wife, "what has happened."

"Alas!" answered her husband, "I have only a year to live."

Then he told them what had passed between him and the genius,
and how he had given his word to return at the end of a year
to be killed. When they heard this sad news they were in despair,
and wept much.

The next day the merchant began to settle his affairs, and first
of all to pay his debts. He gave presents to his friends,
and large alms to the poor. He set his slaves at liberty,
and provided for his wife and children. The year soon passed away,
and he was obliged to depart. When he tried to say good-bye he was
quite overcome with grief, and with difficulty tore himself away.
At length he reached the place where he had first seen the genius,
on the very day that he had appointed. He dismounted, and sat
down at the edge of the fountain, where he awaited the genius in
terrible suspense.

Whilst he was thus waiting an old man leading a hind came towards him.
They greeted one another, and then the old man said to him,
"May I ask, brother, what brought you to this desert place,
where there are so many evil genii about? To see these beautiful
trees one would imagine it was inhabited, but it is a dangerous
place to stop long in."

The merchant told the old man why he was obliged to come there.
He listened in astonishment.

"This is a most marvellous affair. I should like to be a witness of
your interview with the genius." So saying he sat down by the merchant.

While they were talking another old man came up, followed by two black
dogs. He greeted them, and asked what they were doing in this place.
The old man who was leading the hind told him the adventure of the
merchant and the genius. The second old man had not sooner heard
the story than he, too, decided to stay there to see what would happen.
He sat down by the others, and was talking, when a third old
man arrived. He asked why the merchant who was with them looked
so sad. They told him the story, and he also resolved to see what
would pass between the genius and the merchant, so waited with the rest.

They soon saw in the distance a thick smoke, like a cloud of dust.
This smoke came nearer and nearer, and then, all at once,
it vanished, and they saw the genius, who, without speaking to them,
approached the merchant, sword in hand, and, taking him by the arm,
said, "Get up and let me kill you as you killed my son."

The merchant and the three old men began to weep and groan.

Then the old man leading the hind threw himself at the monster's
feet and said, "O Prince of the Genii, I beg of you to stay
your fury and to listen to me. I am going to tell you my story
and that of the hind I have with me, and if you find it more
marvellous than that of the merchant whom you are about to kill,
I hope that you will do away with a third part of his punishment?"

The genius considered some time, and then he said, "Very well,
I agree to this."



The Story of the First Old Man and of the Hind


I am now going to begin my story (said the old man), so please attend.

This hind that you see with me is my wife. We have no children
of our own, therefore I adopted the son of a favorite slave,
and determined to make him my heir.

My wife, however, took a great dislike to both mother and child,
which she concealed from me till too late. When my adopted
son was about ten years old I was obliged to go on a journey.
Before I went I entrusted to my wife's keeping both the mother
and child, and begged her to take care of them during my absence,
which lasted a whole year. During this time she studied magic
in order to carry out her wicked scheme. When she had learnt enough
she took my son into a distant place and changed him into a calf.
Then she gave him to my steward, and told him to look after a calf she
had bought. She also changed the slave into a cow, which she sent
to my steward.

When I returned I inquired after my slave and the child.
"Your slave is dead," she said, "and as for your son, I have
not seen him for two months, and I do not know where he is."

I was grieved to hear of my slave's death, but as my son had only
disappeared, I thought I should soon find him. Eight months, however,
passed, and still no tidings of him; then the feast of Bairam came.

To celebrate it I ordered my steward to bring me a very fat cow to
sacrifice. He did so. The cow that he brought was my unfortunate slave.
I bound her, but just as I was about to kill her she began to low
most piteously, and I saw that her eyes were streaming with tears.
It seemed to me most extraordinary, and, feeling a movement of pity,
I ordered the steward to lead her away and bring another. My wife,
who was present, scoffed at my compassion, which made her malice
of no avail. "What are you doing?" she cried. "Kill this cow.
It is the best we have to sacrifice."

To please her, I tried again, but again the animal's lows and tears
disarmed me.

"Take her away," I said to the steward, "and kill her; I cannot."

The steward killed her, but on skinning her found that she was
nothing but bones, although she appeared so fat. I was vexed.

"Keep her for yourself," I said to the steward, "and if you have
a fat calf, bring that in her stead."

In a short time he brought a very fat calf, which, although I did
not know it, was my son. It tried hard to break its cord and come
to me. It threw itself at my feet, with its head on the ground,
as if it wished to excite my pity, and to beg me not to take away
its life.

I was even more surprised and touched at this action than I had
been at the tears of the cow.

"Go," I said to the steward, "take back this calf, take great care
of it, and bring me another in its place instantly."

As soon as my wife heard me speak this she at once cried out,
"What are you doing, husband? Do not sacrifice any calf but this."

"Wife," I answered, "I will not sacrifice this calf," and in spite
of all her remonstrances, I remained firm.

I had another calf killed; this one was led away. The next day
the steward asked to speak to me in private.

"I have come," he said, "to tell you some news which I think you will
like to hear. I have a daughter who knows magic. Yesterday, when I
was leading back the calf which you refused to sacrifice, I noticed
that she smiled, and then directly afterwards began to cry.
I asked her why she did so."

"Father," she answered, "this calf is the son of our master.
I smile with joy at seeing him still alive, and I weep to think
of his mother, who was sacrificed yesterday as a cow. These changes
have been wrought by our master's wife, who hated the mother
and son."

"At these words, of Genius," continued the old man, "I leave you
to imagine my astonishment. I went immediately with the steward
to speak with his daughter myself. First of all I went to the stable
to see my son, and he replied in his dumb way to all my caresses.
When the steward's daughter came I asked her if she could change my
son back to his proper shape."

"Yes, I can," she replied, "on two conditions. One is that you
will give him to me for a husband, and the other is that you will let
me punish the woman who changed him into a calf."

"To the first condition," I answered, "I agree with all my heart,
and I will give you an ample dowry. To the second I also agree,
I only beg you to spare her life."

"That I will do," she replied; "I will treat her as she treated
your son."

Then she took a vessel of water and pronounced over it some words
I did not understand; then, on throwing the water over him,
he became immediately a young man once more.

"My son, my dear son," I exclaimed, kissing him in a transport of joy.
"This kind maiden has rescued you from a terrible enchantment,
and I am sure that out of gratitude you will marry her."

He consented joyfully, but before they were married, the young girl
changed my wife into a hind, and it is she whom you see before you.
I wished her to have this form rather than a stranger one, so that we
could see her in the family without repugnance.

Since then my son has become a widower and has gone travelling.
I am now going in search of him, and not wishing to confide my wife
to the care of other people, I am taking her with me. Is this not
a most marvellous tale?

"It is indeed," said the genius, "and because of it I grant to you
the third part of the punishment of this merchant."

When the first old man had finished his story, the second,
who was leading the two black dogs, said to the genius, "I am
going to tell you what happened to me, and I am sure that you
will find my story even more astonishing than the one to which you
have just been listening. But when I have related it, will you
grant me also the third part of the merchant's punishment?"

"Yes," replied the genius, "provided that your story surpasses
that of the hind."

With this agreement the second old man began in this way.



The Story of the Second Old Man, and of the Two Black Dogs


Great prince of the genii, you must know that we are three brothers--
these two black dogs and myself. Our father died, leaving us
each a thousand sequins. With this sum we all three took up
the same profession, and became merchants. A short time after we
had opened our shops, my eldest brother, one of these two dogs,
resolved to travel in foreign countries for the sake of merchandise.
With this intention he sold all he had and bought merchandise suitable
to the voyages he was about to make. He set out, and was away
a whole year. At the end of this time a beggar came to my shop.
"Good-day," I said. "Good-day," he answered; "is it possible that
you do not recognise me?" Then I looked at him closely and saw he
was my brother. I made him come into my house, and asked him how he
had fared in his enterprise.

"Do not question me," he replied, "see me, you see all I have.
It would but renew my trouble to tell of all the misfortunes that
have befallen me in a year, and have brought me to this state."

I shut up my shop, paid him every attention, taking him to the bath,
giving him my most beautiful robes. I examined my accounts, and found
that I had doubled my capital--that is, that I now possessed two
thousand sequins. I gave my brother half, saying: "Now, brother,
you can forget your losses." He accepted them with joy, and we
lived together as we had before.

Some time afterwards my second brother wished also to sell his business
and travel. My eldest brother and I did all we could to dissuade him,
but it was of no use. He joined a caravan and set out. He came
back at the end of a year in the same state as his elder brother.
I took care of him, and as I had a thousand sequins to spare I gave
them to him, and he re-opened his shop.

One day, my two brothers came to me to propose that we should make
a journey and trade. At first I refused to go. "You travelled,"
I said, "and what did you gain?" But they came to me repeatedly,
and after having held out for five years I at last gave way.
But when they had made their preparation, and they began to buy
the merchandise we needed, they found they had spent every piece
of the thousand sequins I had given them. I did not reproach them.
I divided my six thousand sequins with them, giving a thousand to each
and keeping one for myself, and the other three I buried in a corner
of my house. We bought merchandise, loaded a vessel with it, and set
forth with a favorable wind.

After two months' sailing we arrived at a seaport, where we
disembarked and did a great trade. Then we bought the merchandise
of the country, and were just going to sail once more, when I was
stopped on the shore by a beautiful though poorly dressed woman.
She came up to me, kissed my hand, and implored me to marry her,
and take her on board. At first I refused, but she begged so hard
and promised to be such a good wife to me, that at last I consented.
I got her some beautiful dresses, and after having married her,
we embarked and set sail. During the voyage, I discovered so many
good qualities in my wife that I began to love her more and more.
But my brothers began to be jealous of my prosperity, and set to work
to plot against my life. One night when we were sleeping they threw
my wife and myself into the sea. My wife, however, was a fairy,
and so she did not let me drown, but transported me to an island.
When the day dawned, she said to me,

"When I saw you on the sea-shore I took a great fancy to you,
and wished to try your good nature, so I presented myself in the
disguise you saw. Now I have rewarded you by saving your life.
But I am very angry with your brothers, and I shall not rest till I
have taken their lives."

I thanked the fairy for all that she had done for me, but I begged
her not to kill my brothers.

I appeased her wrath, and in a moment she transported me from
the island where we were to the roof of my house, and she
disappeared a moment afterwards. I went down, and opened the doors,
and dug up the three thousand sequins which I had buried. I went
to the place where my shop was, opened it, and received from my
fellow-merchants congratulations on my return. When I went home,
I saw two black dogs who came to meet me with sorrowful faces.
I was much astonished, but the fairy who reappeared said to me,

"Do not be surprised to see these dogs; they are your two brothers.
I have condemned them to remain for ten years in these shapes."
Then having told me where I could hear news of her, she vanished.

The ten years are nearly passed, and I am on the road to find her.
As in passing I met this merchant and the old man with the hind,
I stayed with them.

This is my history, O prince of genii! Do you not think it
is a most marvellous one?

"Yes, indeed," replied the genius, "and I will give up to you
the third of the merchant's punishment."

Then the third old man made the genius the same request as the
other two had done, and the genius promised him the last third
of the merchant's punishment if his story surpassed both the others.

So he told his story to the genius, but I cannot tell you what it was,
as I do not know.

But I do know that it was even more marvellous than either of the others,
so that the genius was astonished, and said to the third old man,
"I will give up to you the third part of the merchant's punishment.
He ought to thank all three of you for having interested yourselves
in his favour. But for you, he would be here no longer."

So saying, he disappeared, to the great joy of the company.
The merchant did not fail to thank his friends, and then each went
on his way. The merchant returned to his wife and children,
and passed the rest of his days happily with them.

"But, sire," added Scheherazade, "however beautiful are the stories I
have just told you, they cannot compare with the story of the Fisherman."



The Story of the Fisherman


Sire, there was once upon a time a fisherman so old and so poor that
he could scarcely manage to support his wife and three children.
He went every day to fish very early, and each day he made a rule not
to throw his nets more than four times. He started out one morning
by moonlight and came to the sea-shore. He undressed and threw his nets,
and as he was drawing them towards the bank he felt a great weight.
He though he had caught a large fish, and he felt very pleased.
But a moment afterwards, seeing that instead of a fish he only had in
his nets the carcase of an ass, he was much disappointed.

Vexed with having such a bad haul, when he had mended his nets,
which the carcase of the ass had broken in several places, he threw
them a second time. In drawing them in he again felt a great weight,
so that he thought they were full of fish. But he only found a large
basket full of rubbish. He was much annoyed.

"O Fortune," he cried, "do not trifle thus with me, a poor fisherman,
who can hardly support his family!"

So saying, he threw away the rubbish, and after having washed his
nets clean of the dirt, he threw them for the third time. But he
only drew in stones, shells, and mud. He was almost in despair.

Then he threw his nets for the fourth time. When he thought he had
a fish he drew them in with a great deal of trouble. There was no
fish however, but he found a yellow pot, which by its weight seemed
full of something, and he noticed that it was fastened and sealed
with lead, with the impression of a seal. He was delighted.
"I will sell it to the founder," he said; "with the money I shall
get for it I shall buy a measure of wheat."

He examined the jar on all sides; he shook it to see if it would rattle.
But he heard nothing, and so, judging from the impression of the seal
and the lid, he thought there must be something precious inside.
To find out, he took his knife, and with a little trouble he opened it.
He turned it upside down, but nothing came out, which surprised
him very much. He set it in front of him, and whilst he was
looking at it attentively, such a thick smoke came out that he
had to step back a pace or two. This smoke rose up to the clouds,
and stretching over the sea and the shore, formed a thick mist,
which caused the fisherman much astonishment. When all the smoke
was out of the jar it gathered itself together, and became a thick
mass in which appeared a genius, twice as large as the largest giant.
When he saw such a terrible-looking monster, the fisherman would
like to have run away, but he trembled so with fright that he could
not move a step.

"Great king of the genii," cried the monster, "I will never again
disobey you!"

At these words the fisherman took courage.

"What is this you are saying, great genius? Tell me your history
and how you came to be shut up in that vase."

At this, the genius looked at the fisherman haughtily. "Speak to me
more civilly," he said, "before I kill you."

"Alas! why should you kill me?" cried the fisherman. "I have just
freed you; have you already forgotten that?"

"No," answered the genius; "but that will not prevent me from
killing you; and I am only going to grant you one favour,
and that is to choose the manner of your death."

"But what have I done to you?" asked the fisherman.

"I cannot treat you in any other way," said the genius, "and if you
would know why, listen to my story.

"I rebelled against the king of the genii. To punish me, he shut
me up in this vase of copper, and he put on the leaden cover
his seal, which is enchantment enough to prevent my coming out.
Then he had the vase thrown into the sea. During the first period
of my captivity I vowed that if anyone should free me before a hundred
years were passed, I would make him rich even after his death.
But that century passed, and no one freed me. In the second century I
vowed that I would give all the treasures in the world to my deliverer;
but he never came.

"In the third, I promised to make him a king, to be always near him,
and to grant him three wishes every day; but that century passed
away as the other two had done, and I remained in the same plight.
At last I grew angry at being captive for so long, and I vowed
that if anyone would release me I would kill him at once,
and would only allow him to choose in what manner he should die.
So you see, as you have freed me to-day, choose in what way you
will die."

The fisherman was very unhappy. "What an unlucky man I am to have
freed you! I implore you to spare my life."

"I have told you," said the genius, "that it is impossible.
Choose quickly; you are wasting time."

The fisherman began to devise a plot.

"Since I must die," he said, "before I choose the manner of my death,
I conjure you on your honour to tell me if you really were in
that vase?"

"Yes, I was" answered the genius.

"I really cannot believe it," said the fisherman. "That vase could
not contain one of your feet even, and how could your whole body
go in? I cannot believe it unless I see you do the thing."

Then the genius began to change himself into smoke, which, as before,
spread over the sea and the shore, and which, then collecting
itself together, began to go back into the vase slowly and evenly
till there was nothing left outside. Then a voice came from the
vase which said to the fisherman, "Well, unbelieving fisherman,
here I am in the vase; do you believe me now?"

The fisherman instead of answering took the lid of lead and shut
it down quickly on the vase.

"Now, O genius," he cried, "ask pardon of me, and choose by what death
you will die! But no, it will be better if I throw you into the sea
whence I drew you out, and I will build a house on the shore to warn
fishermen who come to cast their nets here, against fishing up such
a wicked genius as you are, who vows to kill the man who frees you."

At these words the genius did all he could to get out, but he
could not, because of the enchantment of the lid.

Then he tried to get out by cunning.

"If you will take off the cover," he said, "I will repay you."

"No," answered the fisherman, "if I trust myself to you I
am afraid you will treat me as a certain Greek king treated
the physician Douban. Listen, and I will tell you."



The Story of the Greek King and the Physician Douban


In the country of Zouman, in Persia, there lived a Greek king.
This king was a leper, and all his doctors had been unable to cure him,
when a very clever physician came to his court.

He was very learned in all languages, and knew a great deal about
herbs and medicines.

As soon as he was told of the king's illness he put on his best
robe and presented himself before the king. "Sire," said he,
"I know that no physician has been able to cure your majesty,
but if you will follow my instructions, I will promise to cure you
without any medicines or outward application."

The king listened to this proposal.

"If you are clever enough to do this," he said, "I promise to make
you and your descendants rich for ever."

The physician went to his house and made a polo club, the handle
of which he hollowed out, and put in it the drug he wished to use.
Then he made a ball, and with these things he went the next day to
the king.

He told him that he wished him to play at polo. Accordingly the
king mounted his horse and went into the place where he played.
There the physician approached him with the bat he had made, saying,
"Take this, sire, and strike the ball till you feel your hand and whole
body in a glow. When the remedy that is in the handle of the club
is warmed by your hand it will penetrate throughout your body.
The you must return to your palace, bathe, and go to sleep,
and when you awake to-morrow morning you will be cured."

The king took the club and urged his horse after the ball which he
had thrown. He struck it, and then it was hit back by the courtiers
who were playing with him. When he felt very hot he stopped playing,
and went back to the palace, went into the bath, and did all that
the physician had said. The next day when he arose he found,
to his great joy and astonishment, that he was completely cured.
When he entered his audience-chamber all his courtiers, who were
eager to see if the wonderful cure had been effected, were overwhelmed
with joy.

The physician Douban entered the hall and bowed low to the ground.
The king, seeing him, called him, made him sit by his side, and showed
him every mark of honour.

That evening he gave him a long and rich robe of state, and presented
him with two thousand sequins. The following day he continued
to load him with favours.

Now the king had a grand-vizir who was avaricious, and envious,
and a very bad man. He grew extremely jealous of the physician,
and determined to bring about his ruin.

In order to do this he asked to speak in private with the king,
saying that he had a most important communication to make.

"What is it?" asked the king.

"Sire," answered the grand-vizir, "it is most dangerous for a monarch
to confide in a man whose faithfulness is not proved, You do not know
that this physician is not a traitor come here to assassinate you."

"I am sure," said the king, "that this man is the most faithful and
virtuous of men. If he wished to take my life, why did he cure me?
Cease to speak against him. I see what it is, you are jealous of him;
but do not think that I can be turned against him. I remember well
what a vizir said to King Sindbad, his master, to prevent him from
putting the prince, his son, to death."

What the Greek king said excited the vizir's curiousity, and he
said to him, "Sire, I beg your majesty to have the condescension
to tell me what the vizir said to King Sindbad."

"This vizir," he replied, "told King Sindbad that one ought not
believe everything that a mother-in-law says, and told him this story."



The Story of the Husband and the Parrot


A good man had a beautiful wife, whom he loved passionately, and never
left if possible. One day, when he was obliged by important business
to go away from her, he went to a place where all kinds of birds
are sold and bought a parrot. This parrot not only spoke well,
but it had the gift of telling all that had been done before it.
He brought it home in a cage, and asked his wife to put it in her room,
and take great care of it while he was away. Then he departed.
On his return he asked the parrot what had happened during his absence,
and the parrot told him some things which made him scold his wife.

She thought that one of her slaves must have been telling tales of her,
but they told her it was the parrot, and she resolved to revenge
herself on him.

When her husband next went away for one day, she told on slave
to turn under the bird's cage a hand-mill; another to throw water
down from above the cage, and a third to take a mirror and turn it
in front of its eyes, from left to right by the light of a candle.
The slaves did this for part of the night, and did it very well.

The next day when the husband came back he asked the parrot what
he had seen. The bird replied, "My good master, the lightning,
thunder and rain disturbed me so much all night long, that I cannot
tell you what I have suffered."

The husband, who knew that it had neither rained nor thundered in
the night, was convinced that the parrot was not speaking the truth,
so he took him out of the cage and threw him so roughly on the
ground that he killed him. Nevertheless he was sorry afterwards,
for he found that the parrot had spoken the truth.

"When the Greek king," said the fisherman to the genius,
"had finished the story of the parrot, he added to the vizir,
"And so, vizir, I shall not listen to you, and I shall take
care of the physician, in case I repent as the husband did
when he had killed the parrot." But the vizir was determined.
"Sire," he replied, "the death of the parrot was nothing.
But when it is a question of the life of a king it is better to
sacrifice the innocent than save the guilty. It is no uncertain
thing, however. The physician, Douban, wishes to assassinate you.
My zeal prompts me to disclose this to your Majesty. If I am wrong,
I deserve to be punished as a vizir was once punished." "What had
the vizir done," said the Greek king, "to merit the punishment?"
"I will tell your Majesty, if you will do me the honour to listen,"
answered the vizir."



The Story of the Vizir Who Was Punished


There was once upon a time a king who had a son who was very fond
of hunting. He often allowed him to indulge in this pastime,
but he had ordered his grand-vizir always to go with him,
and never to lose sight of him. One day the huntsman roused a stag,
and the prince, thinking that the vizir was behind, gave chase,
and rode so hard that he found himself alone. He stopped,
and having lost sight of it, he turned to rejoin the vizir,
who had not been careful enough to follow him. But he lost his way.
Whilst he was trying to find it, he saw on the side of the road
a beautiful lady who was crying bitterly. He drew his horse's rein,
and asked her who she was and what she was doing in this place,
and if she needed help. "I am the daughter of an Indian king,"
she answered, "and whilst riding in the country I fell asleep and
tumbled off. My horse has run away, and I do not know what has become
of him."

The young prince had pity on her, and offered to take her behind him,
which he did. As they passed by a ruined building the lady dismounted
and went in. The prince also dismounted and followed her.
To his great surprise, he heard her saying to some one inside,
"Rejoice my children; I am bringing you a nice fat youth." And other
voices replied, "Where is he, mamma, that we may eat him at once,
as we are very hungry?"

The prince at once saw the danger he was in. He now knew that the
lady who said she was the daughter of an Indian king was an ogress,
who lived in desolate places, and who by a thousand wiles surprised
and devoured passers-by. He was terrified, and threw himself on
his horse. The pretended princess appeared at this moment, and seeing
that she had lost her prey, she said to him, "Do not be afraid.
What do you want?"

"I am lost," he answered, "and I am looking for the road."

"Keep straight on," said the ogress, "and you will find it."

The prince could hardly believe his ears, and rode off as hard
as he could. He found his way, and arrived safe and sound at
his father's house, where he told him of the danger he had run
because of the grand-vizir's carelessness. The king was very angry,
and had him strangled immediately.

"Sire," went on the vizir to the Greek king, "to return to
the physician, Douban. If you do not take care, you will repent
of having trusted him. Who knows what this remedy, with which
he has cured you, may not in time have a bad effect on you?"

The Greek king was naturally very weak, and did not perceive
the wicked intention of his vizir, nor was he firm enough to keep
to his first resolution.

"Well, vizir," he said, "you are right. Perhaps he did come to take
my life. He might do it by the mere smell of one of his drugs.
I must see what can be done."

"The best means, sire, to put your life in security, is to send
for him at once, and to cut off his head directly he comes,"
said the vizir.

"I really think," replied the king, "that will be the best way."

He then ordered one of his ministers to fetch the physician,
who came at once.

"I have had you sent for," said the king, "in order to free myself
from you by taking your life."

The physician was beyond measure astonished when he heard he was
to die.

"What crimes have I committed, your majesty?"

"I have learnt," replied the king, "that you are a spy, and intend
to kill me. But I will be first, and kill you. Strike," he added
to an executioner who was by, "and rid me of this assassin."

At this cruel order the physician threw himself on his knees.
"Spare my life," he cried, "and yours will be spared."

The fisherman stopped here to say to the genius: "You see what
passed between the Greek king and the physician has just passed
between us two. The Greek king," he went on, "had no mercy on him,
and the executioner bound his eyes."

All those present begged for his life, but in vain.

The physician on his knees, and bound, said to the king:
"At least let me put my affairs in order, and leave my books
to persons who will make good use of them. There is one which I
should like to present to your majesty. It is very precious,
and ought to be kept carefully in your treasury. It contains
many curious things the chief being that when you cut off my head,
if your majesty will turn to the sixth leaf, and read the third
line of the left-hand page, my head will answer all the questions
you like to ask it."

The king, eager to see such a wonderful thing, put off his execution
to the next day, and sent him under a strong guard to his house.
There the physician put his affairs in order, and the next day
there was a great crowd assembled in the hall to see his death,
and the doings after it. The physician went up to the foot
of the throne with a large book in his hand. He carried a basin,
on which he spread the covering of the book, and presenting it to
the king, said: "Sire, take this book, and when my head is cut off,
let it be placed in the basin on the covering of this book; as soon
as it is there, the blood will cease to flow. Then open the book,
and my head will answer your questions. But, sire, I implore your mercy,
for I am innocent."

"Your prayers are useless, and if it were only to hear your head
speak when you are dead, you should die."

So saying, he took the book from the physician's hands, and ordered
the executioner to do his duty.

The head was so cleverly cut off that it fell into the basin,
and directly the blood ceased to flow. Then, to the great astonishment
of the king, the eyes opened, and the head said, "Your majesty,
open the book." The king did so, and finding that the first leaf
stuck against the second, he put his finger in his mouth, to turn it
more easily. He did the same thing till he reached the sixth page,
and not seeing any writing on it, "Physician," he said, "there is
no writing."

"Turn over a few more pages," answered the head. The king went
on turning, still putting his finger in his mouth, till the poison
in which each page was dipped took effect. His sight failed him,
and he fell at the foot of his throne.

When the physician's head saw that the poison had taken effect,
and that the king had only a few more minutes to live,
"Tyrant," it cried, "see how cruelty and injustice are punished."

Scarcely had it uttered these words than the king died, and the head
lost also the little life that had remained in it.

That is the end of the story of the Greek king, and now let us
return to the fisherman and the genius.

"If the Greek king," said the fisherman, "had spared the physician,
he would not have thus died. The same thing applies to you.
Now I am going to throw you into the sea."

"My friend," said the genius, "do not do such a cruel thing.
Do not treat me as Imma treated Ateca."

"What did Imma do to Ateca?" asked the fisherman.

"Do you think I can tell you while I am shut up in here?"
replied the genius. "Let me out, and I will make you rich."

The hope of being no longer poor made the fisherman give way.

"If you will give me your promise to do this, I will open the lid.
I do not think you will dare to break your word."

The genius promised, and the fisherman lifted the lid. He came
out at once in smoke, and then, having resumed his proper form,
the first thing he did was to kick the vase into the sea.
This frightened the fisherman, but the genius laughed and said,
"Do not be afraid; I only did it to frighten you, and to show you
that I intend to keep my word; take your nets and follow me."

He began to walk in front of the fisherman, who followed him
with some misgivings. They passed in front of the town, and went
up a mountain and then down into a great plain, where there
was a large lake lying between four hills.

When they reached the lake the genius said to the fisherman,
"Throw your nets and catch fish."

The fisherman did as he was told, hoping for a good catch,
as he saw plenty of fish. What was his astonishment at seeing
that there were four quite different kinds, some white, some red,
some blue, and some yellow. He caught four, one of each colour.
As he had never seen any like them he admired them very much,
and he was very pleased to think how much money he would get
for them.

"Take these fish and carry them to the Sultan, who will give you more
money for them than you have ever had in your life. You can come
every day to fish in this lake, but be careful not to throw your nets
more than once every day, otherwise some harm will happen to you.
If you follow my advice carefully you will find it good."

Saying these words, he struck his foot against the ground,
which opened, and when he had disappeared, it closed immediately.

The fisherman resolved to obey the genius exactly, so he did
not cast his nets a second time, but walked into the town to sell
his fish at the palace.

When the Sultan saw the fish he was much astonished. He looked at
them one after the other, and when he had admired them long enough,
"Take these fish," he said to his first vizir, "and given them
to the clever cook the Emperor of the Greeks sent me. I think they
must be as good as they are beautiful."

The vizir took them himself to the cook, saying, "Here are four fish
that have been brought to the Sultan. He wants you to cook them."

Then he went back to the Sultan, who told him to give the fisherman
four hundred gold pieces. The fisherman, who had never before
possessed such a large sum of money at once, could hardly believe
his good fortune. He at once relieved the needs of his family,
and made good use of it.

But now we must return to the kitchen, which we shall find
in great confusion. The cook, when she had cleaned the fish,
put them in a pan with some oil to fry them. When she thought
them cooked enough on one side she turned them on the other.
But scarcely had she done so when the walls of the kitchen opened,
and there came out a young and beautiful damsel. She was dressed
in an Egyptian dress of flowered satin, and she wore earrings,
and a necklace of white pearls, and bracelets of gold set with rubies,
and she held a wand of myrtle in her hand.

She went up to the pan, to the great astonishment of the cook,
who stood motionless at the sight of her. She struck one of the fish
with her rod, "Fish, fish," said she, "are you doing your duty?"
The fish answered nothing, and then she repeated her question,
whereupon they all raised their heads together and answered
very distinctly, "Yes, yes. If you reckon, we reckon. If you
pay your debts, we pay ours. If you fly, we conquer, and we
are content."

When they had spoken the girl upset the pan, and entered the opening
in the wall, which at once closed, and appeared the same as before.

When the cook had recovered from her fright she lifted up the fish
which had fallen into the ashes, but she found them as black as cinders,
and not fit to serve up to the Sultan. She began to cry.

"Alas! what shall I say to the Sultan? He will be so angry with me,
and I know he will not believe me!"

Whilst she was crying the grand-vizir came in and asked
if the fish were ready. She told him all that had happened,
and he was much surprised. He sent at once for the fisherman,
and when he came said to him, "Fisherman, bring me four
more fish like you have brought already, for an accident
has happened to them so that they cannot be served up to the Sultan."

The fisherman did not say what the genius had told him, but he
excused himself from bringing them that day on account of the length
of the way, and he promised to bring them next day.

In the night he went to the lake, cast his nets, and on drawing
them in found four fish, which were like the others, each of
a different colour.

He went back at once and carried them to the grand-vizir as he
had promised.

He then took them to the kitchen and shut himself up with the cook,
who began to cook them as she had done the four others on the
previous day. When she was about to turn them on the other side,
the wall opened, the damsel appeared, addressed the same words
to the fish, received the same answer, and then overturned the pan
and disappeared.

The grand-vizir was filled with astonishment. "I shall tell
the Sultan all that has happened," said he. And he did so.

The Sultan was very much astounded, and wished to see this marvel
for himself. So he sent for the fisherman, and asked him to procure
four more fish. The fisherman asked for three days, which were granted,
and he then cast his nets in the lake, and again caught four different
coloured fish. The sultan was delighted to see he had got them,
and gave him again four hundred gold pieces.

As soon as the Sultan had the fish he had them carried to his room
with all that was needed to cook them.

Then he shut himself up with the grand-vizir, who began to prepare
them and cook them. When they were done on one side he turned them
over on the other. Then the wall of the room opened, but instead
of the maiden a black slave came out. He was enormously tall,
and carried a large green stick with which he touched the fish,
saying in a terrible voice, "Fish, fish, are you doing your duty?"
To these words the fish lifting up their heads replied, "Yes, yes.
If you reckon, we reckon. If you pay your debts, we pay ours.
If you fly, we conquer, and are content."

The black slave overturned the pan in the middle of the room,
and the fish were turned to cinders. Then he stepped proudly back
into the wall, which closed round him.

"After having seen this," said the Sultan, "I cannot rest.
These fish signify some mystery I must clear up."

He sent for the fisherman. "Fisherman," he said, "the fish you
have brought us have caused me some anxiety. Where did you get
them from?"

"Sire," he answered, "I got them from a lake which lies in the
middle of four hills beyond yonder mountains."

"Do you know this lake?" asked the Sultan of the grand-vizir.

"No; though I have hunted many times round that mountain, I have
never heard of it," said the vizir.

As the fisherman said it was only three hours' journey away,
the sultan ordered his whole court to mount and ride thither,
and the fisherman led them.

They climbed the mountain, and then, on the other side, saw the
lake as the fisherman had described. The water was so clear
that they could see the four kinds of fish swimming about in it.
They looked at them for some time, and then the Sultan ordered them
to make a camp by the edge of the water.

When night came the Sultan called his vizir, and said to him,
"I have resolved to clear up this mystery. I am going out alone,
and do you stay here in my tent, and when my ministers come to-morrow,
say I am not well, and cannot see them. Do this each day till
I return."

The grand-vizir tried to persuade the Sultan not to go, but in vain.
The Sultan took off his state robe and put on his sword, and when he
saw all was quiet in the camp he set forth alone.

He climbed one of the hills, and then crossed the great plain, till,
just as the sun rose, he beheld far in front of him a large building.
When he came near to it he saw it was a splendid palace of beautiful
black polished marble, covered with steel as smooth as a mirror.

He went to the gate, which stood half open, and went in, as nobody
came when he knocked. He passed through a magnificent courtyard
and still saw no one, though he called aloud several times.

He entered large halls where the carpets were of silk, the lounges
and sofas covered with tapestry from Mecca, and the hangings of the most
beautiful Indian stuffs of gold and silver. Then he found himself
in a splendid room, with a fountain supported by golden lions.
The water out of the lions' mouths turned into diamonds and pearls,
and the leaping water almost touched a most beautifully-painted dome.
The palace was surrounded on three sides by magnificent gardens,
little lakes, and woods. Birds sang in the trees, which were netted
over to keep them always there.

Still the Sultan saw no one, till he heard a plaintive cry,
and a voice which said, "Oh that I could die, for I am too unhappy
to wish to live any longer!"

The Sultan looked round to discover who it was who thus bemoaned
his fate, and at last saw a handsome young man, richly clothed,
who was sitting on a throne raised slightly from the ground.
His face was very sad.

The sultan approached him and bowed to him. The young man bent
his head very low, but did not rise.

"Sire," he said to the Sultan, "I cannot rise and do you
the reverence that I am sure should be paid to your rank."

"Sir," answered the Sultan, "I am sure you have a good reason
for not doing so, and having heard your cry of distress, I am come
to offer you my help. Whose is this palace, and why is it thus empty?"

Instead of answering the young man lifted up his robe, and showed
the Sultan that, from the waist downwards, he was a block of black marble.

The Sultan was horrified, and begged the young man to tell him
his story.

"Willingly I will tell you my sad history," said the young man.



The Story of the Young King of the Black Isles


You must know, sire, that my father was Mahmoud, the king of this
country, the Black Isles, so called from the four little mountains
which were once islands, while the capital was the place where now
the great lake lies. My story will tell you how these changes came about.

My father died when he was sixty-six, and I succeeded him.
I married my cousin, whom I loved tenderly, and I thought she loved
me too.

But one afternoon, when I was half asleep, and was being fanned
by two of her maids, I heard one say to the other, "What a pity it
is that our mistress no longer loves our master! I believe she
would like to kill him if she could, for she is an enchantress."

I soon found by watching that they were right, and when I
mortally wounded a favourite slave of hers for a great crime,
she begged that she might build a palace in the garden, where she
wept and bewailed him for two years.

At last I begged her to cease grieving for him, for although he could
not speak or move, by her enchantments she just kept him alive.
She turned upon me in a rage, and said over me some magic words,
and I instantly became as you see me now, half man and half marble.

Then this wicked enchantress changed the capital, which was
a very populous and flourishing city, into the lake and desert
plain you saw. The fish of four colours which are in it are
the different races who lived in the town; the four hills are
the four islands which give the name to my kingdom. All this the
enchantress told me to add to my troubles. And this is not all.
Every day she comes and beats me with a whip of buffalo hide.

When the young king had finished his sad story he burst once more
into tears, and the Sultan was much moved.

"Tell me," he cried, "where is this wicked woman, and where is
the miserable object of her affection, whom she just manages
to keep alive?"

"Where she lives I do not know," answered the unhappy prince,
"but she goes every day at sunrise to see if the slave can yet speak
to her, after she has beaten me."

"Unfortunate king," said the Sultan, "I will do what I can
to avenge you."

So he consulted with the young king over the best way to bring
this about, and they agreed their plan should be put in effect
the next day. The Sultan then rested, and the young king gave
himself up to happy hopes of release. The next day the Sultan arose,
and then went to the palace in the garden where the black slave was.
He drew his sword and destroyed the little life that remained in him,
and then threw the body down a well. He then lay down on the couch
where the slave had been, and waited for the enchantress.

She went first to the young king, whom she beat with a hundred blows.

Then she came to the room where she thought her wounded slave was,
but where the Sultan really lay.

She came near his couch and said, "Are you better to-day,
my dear slave? Speak but one word to me."

"How can I be better," answered the Sultan, imitating the language
of the Ethiopians, "when I can never sleep for the cries and groans
of your husband?"

"What joy to hear you speak!" answered the queen. "Do you wish
him to regain his proper shape?"

"Yes," said the Sultan; "hasten to set him at liberty, so that I
may no longer hear his cries."

The queen at once went out and took a cup of water, and said
over it some words that made it boil as if it were on the fire.
Then she threw it over the prince, who at once regained his own form.
He was filled with joy, but the enchantress said, "Hasten away from
this place and never come back, lest I kill you."

So he hid himself to see the end of the Sultan's plan.

The enchantress went back to the Palace of Tears and said,
"Now I have done what you wished."

"What you have done," said the Sultan, "is not enough to cure me.
Every day at midnight all the people whom you have changed into fish
lift their heads out of the lake and cry for vengeance. Go quickly,
and give them their proper shape."

The enchantress hurried away and said some words over the lake.

The fish then became men, women, and children, and the houses
and shops were once more filled. The Sultan's suite, who had
encamped by the lake, were not a little astonished to see themselves
in the middle of a large and beautiful town.

As soon as she had disenchanted it the queen went back to the palace.

"Are you quite well now?" she said.

"Come near," said the Sultan. "Nearer still."

She obeyed. Then he sprang up, and with one blow of his sword he
cut her in two.

Then he went and found the prince.

"Rejoice," he said, "your cruel enemy is dead."

The prince thanked him again and again.

"And now," said the Sultan. "I will go back to my capital,
which I am glad to find is so near yours."

"So near mine!" said the King of the Black Isles.

"Do you know it is a whole year's journey from here? You came
here in a few hours because it was enchanted. But I will accompany
you on your journey."

"It will give me much pleasure if you will escort me," said the Sultan,
"and as I have no children, I will make you my heir."

The Sultan and the prince set out together, the Sultan laden
with rich presents from the King of the Black Isles.

The day after he reached his capital the Sultan assembled his court
and told them all that had befallen him, and told them how he
intended to adopt the young king as his heir.

Then he gave each man presents in proportion to his rank.

As for the fisherman, as he was the first cause of the deliverance
of the young prince, the Sultan gave him much money, and made him
and his family happy for the rest of their days.



Story of the Three Calenders, Sons of Kings, and of Five Ladies
of Bagdad


In the reign of the Caliph Haroun-al-Raschid, there lived at Bagdad
a porter who, in spite of his humble calling, was an intelligent
and sensible man. One morning he was sitting in his usual place with
his basket before him, waiting to be hired, when a tall young lady,
covered with a long muslin veil, came up to him and said, "Pick up
your basket and follow me." The porter, who was greatly pleased
by her appearance and voice, jumped up at once, poised his basket
on his head, and accompanied the lady, saying to himself as he went,
"Oh, happy day! Oh, lucky meeting!"

The lady soon stopped before a closed door, at which she knocked.
It was opened by an old man with a long white beard, to whom
the lady held out money without speaking. The old man, who seemed
to understand what she wanted, vanished into the house, and returned
bringing a large jar of wine, which the porter placed in his basket.
Then the lady signed to him to follow, and they went their way.

The next place she stopped at was a fruit and flower shop, and here she
bought a large quantity of apples, apricots, peaches, and other things,
with lilies, jasmine, and all sorts of sweet-smelling plants.
From this shop she went to a butcher's, a grocer's, and a poulterer's,
till at last the porter exclaimed in despair, "My good lady,
if you had only told me you were going to buy enough provisions
to stock a town, I would have brought a horse, or rather a camel."
The lady laughed, and told him she had not finished yet, but after
choosing various kinds of scents and spices from a druggist's store,
she halted before a magnificent palace, at the door of which
she knocked gently. The porteress who opened it was of such
beauty that the eyes of the man were quite dazzled, and he was
the more astonished as he saw clearly that she was no slave.
The lady who had led him hither stood watching him with amusement,
till the porteress exclaimed, "Why don't you come in, my sister?
This poor man is so heavily weighed down that he is ready to drop."

When they were both inside the door was fastened, and they all
three entered a large court, surrounded by an open-work gallery.
At one end of the court was a platform, and on the platform stood
an amber throne supported by four ebony columns, garnished with
pearls and diamonds. In the middle of the court stood a marble
basin filled with water from the mouth of a golden lion.

The porter looked about him, noticing and admiring everything;
but his attention was specially attracted by a third lady sitting
on the throne, who was even more beautiful than the other two.
By the respect shown to her by the others, he judged that she must be
the eldest, and in this he was right. This lady's name was Zobeida,
the porteress was Sadie, and the housekeeper was Amina. At a word
from Zobeida, Sadie and Amina took the basket from the porter,
who was glad enough to be relieved from its weight; and when it
was emptied, paid him handsomely for its use. But instead of taking
up his basket and going away, the man still lingered, till Zobeida
inquired what he was waiting for, and if he expected more money.
"Oh, madam," returned he, "you have already given me too much,
and I fear I may have been guilty of rudeness in not taking my
departure at once. But, if you will pardon my saying so, I was lost
in astonishment at seeing such beautiful ladies by themselves. A
company of women without men is, however, as dull as a company of men
without women." And after telling some stories to prove his point,
he ended by entreating them to let him stay and make a fourth at
their dinner.

The ladies were rather amused at the man's assurances and after
some discussion it was agreed that he should be allowed to stay,
as his society might prove entertaining. "But listen, friend,"
said Zobeida, "if we grant your request, it is only on condition
that you behave with the utmost politeness, and that you keep the
secret of our way of living, which chance has revealed to you."
Then they all sat down to table, which had been covered by Amina
with the dishes she had bought.

After the first few mouthfuls Amina poured some wine into a golden cup.
She first drank herself, according to the Arab custom, and then
filled it for her sisters. When it came to the porter's turn he
kissed Amina's hand, and sang a song, which he composed at the moment
in praise of the wine. The three ladies were pleased with the song,
and then sang themselves, so that the repast was a merry one,
and lasted much longer than usual.

At length, seeing that the sun was about to set, Sadia said
to the porter, "Rise and go; it is now time for us to separate."

"Oh, madam," replied he, "how can you desire me to quit you in
the state in which I am? Between the wine I have drunk, and the
pleasure of seeing you, I should never find the way to my house.
Let me remain here till morning, and when I have recovered my senses
I will go when you like."

"Let him stay," said Amina, who had before proved herself his friend.
"It is only just, as he has given us so much amusement."

"If you wish it, my sister," replied Zobeida; "but if he does,
I must make a new condition. Porter," she continued, turning to him,
"if you remain, you must promise to ask no questions about anything
you may see. If you do, you may perhaps hear what you don't like."

This being settled, Amina brought in supper, and lit up the hall with a
number of sweet smelling tapers. They then sat down again at the table,
and began with fresh appetites to eat, drink, sing, and recite verses.
In fact, they were all enjoying themselves mightily when they heard
a knock at the outer door, which Sadie rose to open. She soon
returned saying that three Calenders, all blind in the right eye,
and all with their heads, faces, and eyebrows clean shaved,
begged for admittance, as they were newly arrived in Bagdad,
and night had already fallen. "They seem to have pleasant manners,"
she added, "but you have no idea how funny they look. I am sure
we should find their company diverting."

Zobeida and Amina made some difficulty about admitting the new comers,
and Sadie knew the reason of their hesitation. But she urged
the matter so strongly that Zobeida was at last forced to consent.
"Bring them in, then," said she, "but make them understand that
they are not to make remarks about what does not concern them,
and be sure to make them read the inscription over the door."
For on the door was written in letters of gold, "Whoso meddles in
affairs that are no business of his, will hear truths that will not
please him."

The three Calenders bowed low on entering, and thanked the ladies
for their kindness and hospitality. The ladies replied with words
of welcome, and they were all about to seat themselves when the eyes
of the Calenders fell on the porter, whose dress was not so very unlike
their own, though he still wore all the hair that nature had given him.
"This," said one of them, "is apparently one of our Arab brothers,
who has rebelled against our ruler."

The porter, although half asleep from the wine he had drunk,
heard the words, and without moving cried angrily to the Calender,
"Sit down and mind your own business. Did you not read the inscription
over the door? Everybody is not obliged to live in the same way."

"Do not be so angry, my good man," replied the Calender; "we should
be very sorry to displease you;" so the quarrel was smoothed over,
and supper began in good earnest. When the Calenders had satisfied
their hunger, they offered to play to their hostesses, if there were
any instruments in the house. The ladies were delighted at the idea,
and Sadie went to see what she could find, returning in a few
moments laden with two different kinds of flutes and a tambourine.
Each Calender took the one he preferred, and began to play
a well-known air, while the ladies sang the words of the song.
These words were the gayest and liveliest possible, and every now
and then the singers had to stop to indulge the laughter which almost
choked them. In the midst of all their noise, a knock was heard
at the door.

Now early that evening the Caliph secretly left the palace,
accompanied by his grand-vizir, Giafar, and Mesrour, chief of the eunuchs,
all three wearing the dresses of merchants. Passing down the street,
the Caliph had been attracted by the music of instruments and the sound
of laughter, and had ordered his vizir to go and knock at the door
of the house, as he wished to enter. The vizir replied that the ladies
who lived there seemed to be entertaining their friends, and he thought
his master would do well not to intrude on them; but the Caliph had
taken it into his head to see for himself, and insisted on being obeyed.

The knock was answered by Sadie, with a taper in her hand,
and the vizir, who was surprised at her beauty, bowed low before her,
and said respectfully, "Madam, we are three merchants who have
lately arrived from Moussoul, and, owing to a misadventure which
befel us this very night, only reached our inn to find that the
doors were closed to us till to-morrow morning. Not knowing
what to do, we wandered in the streets till we happened to pass
your house, when, seeing lights and hearing the sound of voices,
we resolved to ask you to give us shelter till the dawn.
If you will grant us this favour, we will, with your permission,
do all in our power to help you spend the time pleasantly."

Sadie answered the merchant that she must first consult her sisters;
and after having talked over the matter with them, she returned to tell
him that he and his two friends would be welcome to join their company.
They entered and bowed politely to the ladies and their guests.
Then Zobeida, as the mistress, came forward and said gravely,
"You are welcome here, but I hope you will allow me to beg one thing
of you--have as many eyes as you like, but no tongues; and ask
no questions about anything you see, however strange it may appear
to you."

"Madam," returned the vizir, "you shall be obeyed. We have quite
enough to please and interest us without troubling ourselves about
that with which we have no concern." Then they all sat down,
and drank to the health of the new comers.

While the vizir, Giafar, was talking to the ladies the Caliph
was occupied in wondering who they could be, and why the three
Calenders had each lost his right eye. He was burning to inquire
the reason of it all, but was silenced by Zobeida's request, so he
tried to rouse himself and to take his part in the conversation,
which was very lively, the subject of discussion being the many
different sorts of pleasures that there were in the world.
After some time the Calenders got up and performed some curious dances,
which delighted the rest of the company.

When they had finished Zobeida rose from her seat, and, taking Amina
by the hand, she said to her, "My sister, our friends will excuse us
if we seem to forget their presence and fulfil our nightly task."
Amina understood her sister's meaning, and collecting the dishes,
glasses, and musical instruments, she carried them away, while Sadie
swept the hall and put everything in order. Having done this she
begged the Calenders to sit on a sofa on one side of the room,
and the Caliph and his friends to place themselves opposite.
As to the porter, she requested him to come and help her and
her sister.

Shortly after Amina entered carrying a seat, which she put down
in the middle of the empty space. She next went over to the door
of a closet and signed to the porter to follow her. He did so,
and soon reappeared leading two black dogs by a chain, which he
brought into the centre of the hall. Zobeida then got up from her
seat between the Calenders and the Caliph and walked slowly across
to where the porter stood with the dogs. "We must do our duty,"
she said with a deep sigh, pushing back her sleeves, and, taking a
whip from Sadie, she said to the man, "Take one of those dogs to my
sister Amina and give me the other."

The porter did as he was bid, but as he led the dog to Zobeida it
uttered piercing howls, and gazed up at her with looks of entreaty.
But Zobeida took no notice, and whipped the dog till she was
out of breath. She then took the chain from the porter, and,
raising the dog on its hind legs, they looked into each other's eyes
sorrowfully till tears began to fall from both. Then Zobeida took
her handkerchief and wiped the dog's eyes tenderly, after which she
kissed it, then, putting the chain into the porter's hand she said,
"Take it back to the closet and bring me the other."

The same ceremony was gone through with the second dog,
and all the while the whole company looked on with astonishment.
The Caliph in particular could hardly contain himself, and made
signs to the vizir to ask what it all meant. But the vizir
pretended not to see, and turned his head away.

Zobeida remained for some time in the middle of the room, till at
last Sadie went up to her and begged her to sit down, as she
also had her part to play. At these words Amina fetched a lute
from a case of yellow satin and gave it to Sadie, who sang several
songs to its accompaniment. When she was tired she said to Amina,
"My sister, I can do no more; come, I pray you, and take my place."

Amina struck a few chords and then broke into a song, which she
sang with so much ardour that she was quite overcome, and sank
gasping on a pile of cushions, tearing open her dress as she did
so to give herself some air. To the amazement of all present,
her neck, instead of being as smooth and white as her face,
was a mass of scars.

The Calenders and the Caliph looked at each other, and whispered together,
unheard by Zobeida and Sadie, who were tending their fainting sister.

"What does it all mean?' asked the Caliph.

"We know no more than you," said the Calender to whom he had spoken.

"What! You do not belong to the house?"

"My lord," answered all the Calenders together, "we came here
for the first time an hour before you."

They then turned to the porter to see if he could explain
the mystery, but the porter was no wiser than they were themselves.
At length the Caliph could contain his curiosity no longer,
and declared that he would compel the ladies to tell them the meaning
of their strange conduct. The vizir, foreseeing what would happen,
implored him to remember the condition their hostesses had imposed,
and added in a whisper that if his Highness would only wait till
morning he could as Caliph summon the ladies to appear before him.
But the Caliph, who was not accustomed to be contradicted,
rejected this advice, and it was resolved after a little more talking
that the question should be put by the porter. Suddenly Zobeida
turned round, and seeing their excitement she said, "What is the matter--
what are you all discussing so earnestly?"

"Madam," answered the porter, "these gentlemen entreat you to explain
to them why you should first whip the dogs and then cry over them,
and also how it happens that the fainting lady is covered with scars.
They have requested me, Madam, to be their mouthpiece."


"Is it true, gentlemen," asked Zobeida, drawing herself up,
"that you have charged this man to put me that question?"

"It is," they all replied, except Giafar, who was silent.

"Is this," continued Zobeida, growing more angry every moment,
"is this the return you make for the hospitality I have shown you?
Have you forgotten the one condition on which you were allowed
to enter the house? Come quickly," she added, clapping her hands
three times, and the words were hardly uttered when seven black slaves,
each armed with a sabre, burst in and stood over the seven men,
throwing them on the ground, and preparing themselves, on a sign from
their mistress, to cut off their heads.

The seven culprits all thought their last hour had come, and the
Caliph repented bitterly that he had not taken the vizir's advice.
But they made up their minds to die bravely, all except the porter,
who loudly inquired of Zobeida why he was to suffer for other
people's faults, and declared that these misfortunes would never
have happened if it had not been for the Calenders, who always
brought ill-luck. He ended by imploring Zobeida not to confound
the innocent with the guilty and to spare his life.

In spite of her anger, there was something so comic in the groans
of the porter that Zobeida could not refrain from laughing.
But putting him aside she addressed the others a second time,
saying, "Answer me; who are you? Unless you tell me truly you
have not another moment to live. I can hardly think you are men
of any position, whatever country you belong to. If you were,
you would have had more consideration for us."

The Caliph, who was naturally very impatient, suffered far more
than either of the others at feeling that his life was at the
mercy of a justly offended lady, but when he heard her question
he began to breathe more freely, for he was convinced that she
had only to learn his name and rank for all danger to be over.
So he whispered hastily to the vizir, who was next to him,
to reveal their secret. But the vizir, wiser than his master,
wished to conceal from the public the affront they had received,
and merely answered, "After all, we have only got what we deserved."

Meanwhile Zobeida had turned to the three Calenders and inquired if,
as they were all blind, they were brothers.

"No, madam," replied one, "we are no blood relations at all,
only brothers by our mode of life."

"And you," she asked, addressing another, "were you born blind
of one eye?"

"No, madam," returned he, "I became blind through a most surprising
adventure, such as probably has never happened to anybody.
After that I shaved my head and eyebrows and put on the dress
in which you see me now."

Zobeida put the same question to the other two Calenders,
and received the same answer.

"But," added the third, "it may interest you, madam, to know
that we are not men of low birth, but are all three sons of kings,
and of kings, too, whom the world holds in high esteem."

At these words Zobeida's anger cooled down, and she turned to
her slaves and said, "You can give them a little more liberty,
but do not leave the hall. Those that will tell us their histories
and their reasons for coming here shall be allowed to leave unhurt;
those who refuse--" And she paused, but in a moment the porter,
who understood that he had only to relate his story to set himself
free from this terrible danger, immediately broke in,

"Madam, you know already how I came here, and what I have to say
will soon be told. Your sister found me this morning in the place
where I always stand waiting to be hired. She bade me follow her
to various shops, and when my basket was quite full we returned
to this house, when you had the goodness to permit me to remain,
for which I shall be eternally grateful. That is my story."

He looked anxiously to Zobeida, who nodded her head and said,
"You can go; and take care we never meet again."

"Oh, madam," cried the porter, "let me stay yet a little while.
It is not just that the others should have heard my story and that I
should not hear theirs," and without waiting for permission he
seated himself on the end of the sofa occupied by the ladies,
whilst the rest crouched on the carpet, and the slaves stood against
the wall.

Then one of the Calenders, addressing himself to Zobeida as the
principal lady, began his story.



The Story of the First Calender, Son of a King


In order, madam, to explain how I came to lose my right eye,
and to wear the dress of a Calender, you must first know that I
am the son of a king. My father's only brother reigned over the
neighbouring country, and had two children, a daughter and a son,
who were of the same age as myself.

As I grew up, and was allowed more liberty, I went every year to pay
a visit to my uncle's court, and usually stayed there about two months.
In this way my cousin and I became very intimate, and were much
attached to each other. The very last time I saw him he seemed more
delighted to see me than ever, and gave a great feast in my honour.
When we had finished eating, he said to me, "My cousin, you would
never guess what I have been doing since your last visit to us!
Directly after your departure I set a number of men to work on a building
after my own design. It is now completed, and ready to be lived in.
I should like to show it to you, but you must first swear two things:
to be faithful to me, and to keep my secret."

Of course I did not dream of refusing him anything he asked, and gave
the promise without the least hesitation. He then bade me wait
an instant, and vanished, returning in a few moments with a richly
dressed lady of great beauty, but as he did not tell me her name,
I thought it was better not to inquire. We all three sat down to table
and amused ourselves with talking of all sorts of indifferent things,
and with drinking each other's health. Suddenly the prince said to me,
"Cousin, we have no time to lose; be so kind as to conduct this lady
to a certain spot, where you will find a dome-like tomb, newly built.
You cannot mistake it. Go in, both of you, and wait till I come.
I shall not be long."

As I had promised I prepared to do as I was told, and giving my hand
to the lady, I escorted her, by the light of the moon, to the place
of which the prince had spoken. We had barely reached it when he
joined us himself, carrying a small vessel of water, a pickaxe,
and a little bag containing plaster.

With the pickaxe he at once began to destroy the empty sepulchre
in the middle of the tomb. One by one he took the stones and piled
them up in a corner. When he had knocked down the whole sepulchre
he proceeded to dig at the earth, and beneath where the sepulchre
had been I saw a trap-door. He raised the door and I caught sight
of the top of a spiral staircase; then he said, turning to the lady,
"Madam, this is the way that will lead you down to the spot which I
told you of."

The lady did not answer, but silently descended the staircase,
the prince following her. At the top, however, he looked at me.
"My cousin," he exclaimed, "I do not know how to thank you for
your kindness. Farewell."

"What do you mean?" I cried. "I don't understand."

"No matter," he replied, "go back by the path that you came."

He would say no more, and, greatly puzzled, I returned to my room
in the palace and went to bed. When I woke, and considered
my adventure, I thought that I must have been dreaming, and sent
a servant to ask if the prince was dressed and could see me.
But on hearing that he had not slept at home I was much alarmed,
and hastened to the cemetery, where, unluckily, the tombs were all so
alike that I could not discover which was the one I was in search of,
though I spent four days in looking for it.

You must know that all this time the king, my uncle, was absent
on a hunting expedition, and as no one knew when he would be back,
I at last decided to return home, leaving the ministers to make
my excuses. I longed to tell them what had become of the prince,
about whose fate they felt the most dreadful anxiety, but the oath I
had sworn kept me silent.

On my arrival at my father's capital, I was astonished to find
a large detachment of guards drawn up before the gate of the palace;
they surrounded me directly I entered. I asked the officers in command
the reason of this strange behaviour, and was horrified to learn
that the army had mutinied and put to death the king, my father,
and had placed the grand-vizir on the throne. Further, that by his
orders I was placed under arrest.

Now this rebel vizir had hated me from my boy-hood, because once,
when shooting at a bird with a bow, I had shot out his eye by accident.
Of course I not only sent a servant at once to offer him my regrets
and apologies, but I made them in person. It was all of no use.
He cherished an undying hatred towards me, and lost no occasion
of showing it. Having once got me in his power I felt he could
show no mercy, and I was right. Mad with triumph and fury he
came to me in my prison and tore out my right eye. That is how I
lost it.

My persecutor, however, did not stop here. He shut me up in a large
case and ordered his executioner to carry me into a desert place,
to cut off my head, and then to abandon my body to the birds of prey.
The case, with me inside it, was accordingly placed on a horse,
and the executioner, accompanied by another man, rode into the country
until they found a spot suitable for the purpose. But their hearts
were not so hard as they seemed, and my tears and prayers made
them waver.

"Forsake the kingdom instantly," said the executioner at last,
"and take care never to come back, for you will not only lose
your head, but make us lose ours." I thanked him gratefully,
and tried to console myself for the loss of my eye by thinking
of the other misfortunes I had escaped.


After all I had gone through, and my fear of being recognised
by some enemy, I could only travel very slowly and cautiously,
generally resting in some out-of-the-way place by day, and walking
as far as I was able by night, but at length I arrived in the kingdom
of my uncle, of whose protection I was sure.

I found him in great trouble about the disappearance of his son,
who had, he said, vanished without leaving a trace; but his own grief
did not prevent him sharing mine. We mingled our tears, for the loss
of one was the loss of the other, and then I made up my mind that it
was my duty to break the solemn oath I had sworn to the prince.
I therefore lost no time in telling my uncle everything I knew,
and I observed that even before I had ended his sorrow appeared to be
lightened a little.

"My dear nephew," he said, "your story gives me some hope.
I was aware that my son was building a tomb, and I think I can find
the spot. But as he wished to keep the matter secret, let us go
alone and seek the place ourselves."

He then bade me disguise myself, and we both slipped out of a
garden door which opened on to the cemetery. It did not take
long for us to arrive at the scene of the prince's disappearance,
or to discover the tomb I had sought so vainly before.
We entered it, and found the trap-door which led to the staircase,
but we had great difficulty in raising it, because the prince had
fastened it down underneath with the plaster he had brought with him.

My uncle went first, and I followed him. When we reached the bottom
of the stairs we stepped into a sort of ante-room, filled with
such a dense smoke that it was hardly possible to see anything.
However, we passed through the smoke into a large chamber,
which at first seemed quite empty. The room was brilliantly lighted,
and in another moment we perceived a sort of platform at one end,
on which were the bodies of the prince and a lady, both half-burned,
as if they had been dragged out of a fire before it had quite
consumed them.

This horrible sight turned me faint, but, to my surprise, my uncle
did not show so much surprise as anger.

"I knew," he said, "that my son was tenderly attached to this lady,
whom it was impossible he should ever marry. I tried to turn
his thoughts, and presented to him the most beautiful princesses,
but he cared for none of them, and, as you see, they have now been
united by a horrible death in an underground tomb." But, as he spoke,
his anger melted into tears, and again I wept with him.

When he recovered himself he drew me to him. "My dear nephew,"
he said, embracing me, "you have come to me to take his place,
and I will do my best to forget that I ever had a son who could act
in so wicked a manner." Then he turned and went up the stairs.

We reached the palace without anyone having noticed our absence,
when, shortly after, a clashing of drums, and cymbals, and the blare
of trumpets burst upon our astonished ears. At the same time a thick
cloud of dust on the horizon told of the approach of a great army.
My heart sank when I perceived that the commander was the vizir
who had dethroned my father, and was come to seize the kingdom
of my uncle.

The capital was utterly unprepared to stand a siege, and seeing
that resistance was useless, at once opened its gates. My uncle
fought hard for his life, but was soon overpowered, and when he
fell I managed to escape through a secret passage, and took refuge
with an officer whom I knew I could trust.

Persecuted by ill-fortune, and stricken with grief, there seemed
to be only one means of safety left to me. I shaved my beard
and my eyebrows, and put on the dress of a calender, in which it
was easy for me to travel without being known. I avoided the towns
till I reached the kingdom of the famous and powerful Caliph,
Haroun-al-Raschid, when I had no further reason to fear my enemies.
It was my intention to come to Bagdad and to throw myself at the feet
of his Highness, who would, I felt certain, be touched by my sad story,
and would grant me, besides, his help and protection.

After a journey which lasted some months I arrived at length at the
gates of this city. It was sunset, and I paused for a little to look
about me, and to decide which way to turn my steps. I was still
debating on this subject when I was joined by this other calender,
who stopped to greet me. "You, like me, appear to be a stranger,"
I said. He replied that I was right, and before he could say more
the third calender came up. He, also, was newly arrived in Bagdad,
and being brothers in misfortune, we resolved to cast in our
lots together, and to share whatever fate might have in store.

By this time it had grown late, and we did not know where to spend
the night. But our lucky star having guided us to this door,
we took the liberty of knocking and of asking for shelter,
which was given to us at once with the best grace in the world.

This, madam, is my story.

"I am satisfied," replied Zobeida; "you can go when you like."

The calender, however, begged leave to stay and to hear the histories
of his two friends and of the three other persons of the company,
which he was allowed to do.



The Story of the Second Calendar, Son of a King


"Madam," said the young man, addressing Zobeida, "if you wish
to know how I lost my right eye, I shall have to tell you the story
of my whole life."

I was scarcely more than a baby, when the king my father,
finding me unusually quick and clever for my age, turned his
thoughts to my education. I was taught first to read and write,
and then to learn the Koran, which is the basis of our holy religion,
and the better to understand it, I read with my tutors the ablest
commentators on its teaching, and committed to memory all the
traditions respecting the Prophet, which have been gathered from
the mouth of those who were his friends. I also learnt history,
and was instructed in poetry, versification, geography, chronology,
and in all the outdoor exercises in which every prince should excel.
But what I liked best of all was writing Arabic characters,
and in this I soon surpassed my masters, and gained a reputation
in this branch of knowledge that reached as far as India itself.

Now the Sultan of the Indies, curious to see a young prince
with such strange tastes, sent an ambassador to my father,
laden with rich presents, and a warm invitation to visit his court.
My father, who was deeply anxious to secure the friendship of so
powerful a monarch, and held besides that a little travel would
greatly improve my manners and open my mind, accepted gladly,
and in a short time I had set out for India with the ambassador,
attended only by a small suite on account of the length of the journey,
and the badness of the roads. However, as was my duty, I took
with me ten camels, laden with rich presents for the Sultan.

We had been travelling for about a month, when one day we saw a cloud
of dust moving swiftly towards us; and as soon as it came near,
we found that the dust concealed a band of fifty robbers.
Our men barely numbered half, and as we were also hampered by
the camels, there was no use in fighting, so we tried to overawe
them by informing them who we were, and whither we were going.
The robbers, however, only laughed, and declared that was none
of their business, and, without more words, attacked us brutally.
I defended myself to the last, wounded though I was, but at length,
seeing that resistance was hopeless, and that the ambassador
and all our followers were made prisoners, I put spurs to my horse
and rode away as fast as I could, till the poor beast fell dead
from a wound in his side. I managed to jump off without any injury,
and looked about to see if I was pursued. But for the moment I
was safe, for, as I imagined, the robbers were all engaged in
quarrelling over their booty.

I found myself in a country that was quite new to me, and dared
not return to the main road lest I should again fall into the
hands of the robbers. Luckily my wound was only a slight one,
and after binding it up as well as I could, I walked on for the
rest of the day, till I reached a cave at the foot of a mountain,
where I passed the night in peace, making my supper off some fruits
I had gathered on the way.

I wandered about for a whole month without knowing where I was going,
till at length I found myself on the outskirts of a beautiful city,
watered by winding streams, which enjoyed an eternal spring.
My delight at the prospect of mixing once more with human beings was
somewhat damped at the thought of the miserable object I must seem.
My face and hands had been burned nearly black; my clothes were all
in rags, and my shoes were in such a state that I had been forced to
abandon them altogether.

I entered the town, and stopped at a tailor's shop to inquire
where I was. The man saw I was better than my condition,
and begged me to sit down, and in return I told him my whole story.
The tailor listened with attention, but his reply, instead of giving
me consolation, only increased my trouble.

"Beware," he said, "of telling any one what you have told me,
for the prince who governs the kingdom is your father's greatest enemy,
and he will be rejoiced to find you in his power."

I thanked the tailor for his counsel, and said I would do whatever
he advised; then, being very hungry, I gladly ate of the food he
put before me, and accepted his offer of a lodging in his house.

In a few days I had quite recovered from the hardships I had undergone,
and then the tailor, knowing that it was the custom for the princes
of our religion to learn a trade or profession so as to provide for
themselves in times of ill-fortune, inquired if there was anything
I could do for my living. I replied that I had been educated
as a grammarian and a poet, but that my great gift was writing.

"All that is of no use here," said the tailor. "Take my advice,
put on a short coat, and as you seem hardy and strong, go into
the woods and cut firewood, which you will sell in the streets.
By this means you will earn your living, and be able to wait till
better times come. The hatchet and the cord shall be my present."

This counsel was very distasteful to me, but I thought I could not
do otherwise than adopt it. So the next morning I set out with a
company of poor wood-cutters, to whom the tailor had introduced me.
Even on the first day I cut enough wood to sell for a tolerable sum,
and very soon I became more expert, and had made enough money
to repay the tailor all he had lent me.

I had been a wood-cutter for more than a year, when one day I
wandered further into the forest than I had ever done before,
and reached a delicious green glade, where I began to cut wood.
I was hacking at the root of a tree, when I beheld an iron ring fastened
to a trapdoor of the same metal. I soon cleared away the earth,
and pulling up the door, found a staircase, which I hastily made up
my mind to go down, carrying my hatchet with me by way of protection.
When I reached the bottom I discovered that I was in a huge palace,
as brilliantly lighted as any palace above ground that I had ever seen,
with a long gallery supported by pillars of jasper, ornamented with
capitals of gold. Down this gallery a lady came to meet me,
of such beauty that I forgot everything else, and thought only
of her.

To save her all the trouble possible, I hastened towards her,
and bowed low.

"Who are you? Who are you?" she said. "A man or a genius?"

"A man, madam," I replied; "I have nothing to do with genii."

"By what accident do you come here?" she asked again with a sigh.
"I have been in this place now for five and twenty years, and you are
the first man who has visited me."

Emboldened by her beauty and gentleness, I ventured to reply,
"Before, madam, I answer your question, allow me to say how grateful I
am for this meeting, which is not only a consolation to me in my own
heavy sorrow, but may perhaps enable me to render your lot happier,"
and then I told her who I was, and how I had come there.

"Alas, prince," she said, with a deeper sigh than before, "you have
guessed rightly in supposing me an unwilling prisoner in this
gorgeous place. I am the daughter of the king of the Ebony Isle,
of whose fame you surely must have heard. At my father's desire I was
married to a prince who was my own cousin; but on my very wedding day,
I was snatched up by a genius, and brought here in a faint.
For a long while I did nothing but weep, and would not suffer
the genius to come near me; but time teaches us submission,
and I have now got accustomed to his presence, and if clothes and
jewels could content me, I have them in plenty. Every tenth day,
for five and twenty years, I have received a visit from him,
but in case I should need his help at any other time, I have only
to touch a talisman that stands at the entrance of my chamber.
It wants still five days to his next visit, and I hope that during
that time you will do me the honour to be my guest."

I was too much dazzled by her beauty to dream of refusing her offer,
and accordingly the princess had me conducted to the bath,
and a rich dress befitting my rank was provided for me.
Then a feast of the most delicate dishes was served in a room
hung with embroidered Indian fabrics.

Next day, when we were at dinner, I could maintain my patience
no longer, and implored the princess to break her bonds, and return
with me to the world which was lighted by the sun.

"What you ask is impossible," she answered; "but stay here with
me instead, and we can be happy, and all you will have to do
is to betake yourself to the forest every tenth day, when I am
expecting my master the genius. He is very jealous, as you know,
and will not suffer a man to come near me."

"Princess," I replied, "I see it is only fear of the genius that
makes you act like this. For myself, I dread him so little that I
mean to break his talisman in pieces! Awful though you think him,
he shall feel the weight of my arm, and I herewith take a solemn
vow to stamp out the whole race."

The princess, who realized the consequences of such audacity,
entreated me not to touch the talisman. "If you do, it will be the
ruin of both of us," said she; "I know genii much better than you."
But the wine I had drunk had confused my brain; I gave one kick
to the talisman, and it fell into a thousand pieces.

Hardly had my foot touched the talisman when the air became as dark
as night, a fearful noise was heard, and the palace shook to its
very foundations. In an instant I was sobered, and understood
what I had done. "Princess!" I cried, "what is happening?"

"Alas!" she exclaimed, forgetting all her own terrors in anxiety
for me, "fly, or you are lost."

I followed her advice and dashed up the staircase, leaving my
hatchet behind me. But I was too late. The palace opened and the
genius appeared, who, turning angrily to the princess, asked indignantly,

"What is the matter, that you have sent for me like this?"

"A pain in my heart," she replied hastily, "obliged me to seek
the aid of this little bottle. Feeling faint, I slipped and fell
against the talisman, which broke. That is really all."

"You are an impudent liar!" cried the genius. "How did this hatchet
and those shoes get here?"

"I never saw them before," she answered, "and you came in such
a hurry that you may have picked them up on the road without
knowing it." To this the genius only replied by insults and blows.
I could hear the shrieks and groans of the princess, and having
by this time taken off my rich garments and put on those in which I
had arrived the previous day, I lifted the trap, found myself
once more in the forest, and returned to my friend the tailor,
with a light load of wood and a heart full of shame and sorrow.

The tailor, who had been uneasy at my long absence, was, delighted to
see me; but I kept silence about my adventure, and as soon as
possible retired to my room to lament in secret over my folly.
While I was thus indulging my grief my host entered, and said,
"There is an old man downstairs who has brought your hatchet
and slippers, which he picked up on the road, and now restores
to you, as he found out from one of your comrades where you lived.
You had better come down and speak to him yourself." At this
speech I changed colour, and my legs trembled under me. The tailor
noticed my confusion, and was just going to inquire the reason
when the door of the room opened, and the old man appeared,
carrying with him my hatchet and shoes.

"I am a genius," he said, "the son of the daughter of Eblis,
prince of the genii. Is not this hatchet yours, and these shoes?"
Without waiting for an answer--which, indeed, I could hardly
have given him, so great was my fright--he seized hold of me,
and darted up into the air with the quickness of lightning,
and then, with equal swiftness, dropped down towards the earth.
When he touched the ground, he rapped it with his foot; it opened,
and we found ourselves in the enchanted palace, in the presence
of the beautiful princess of the Ebony Isle. But how different she
looked from what she was when I had last seen her, for she was lying
stretched on the ground covered with blood, and weeping bitterly.

"Traitress!" cried the genius, "is not this man your lover?"

She lifted up her eyes slowly, and looked sadly at me. "I never
saw him before," she answered slowly. "I do not know who he is."

"What!" exclaimed the genius, "you owe all your sufferings to him,
and yet you dare to say he is a stranger to you!"

"But if he really is a stranger to me," she replied, "why should I
tell a lie and cause his death?"

"Very well," said the genius, drawing his sword, "take this,
and cut off his head."

"Alas," answered the princess, "I am too weak even to hold the sabre.
And supposing that I had the strength, why should I put an innocent
man to death?"

"You condemn yourself by your refusal," said the genius; then turning
to me, he added, "and you, do you not know her?"

"How should I?" I replied, resolved to imitate the princess
in her fidelity. "How should I, when I never saw her before?"

"Cut her head off," then, "if she is a stranger to you, and I shall
believe you are speaking the truth, and will set you at liberty."

"Certainly," I answered, taking the sabre in my hands, and making
a sign to the princess to fear nothing, as it was my own life that I
was about to sacrifice, and not hers. But the look of gratitude
she gave me shook my courage, and I flung the sabre to the earth.

"I should not deserve to live," I said to the genius, "if I were
such a coward as to slay a lady who is not only unknown to me,
but who is at this moment half dead herself. Do with me as you will--
I am in your power--but I refuse to obey your cruel command."

"I see," said the genius, "that you have both made up your minds
to brave me, but I will give you a sample of what you may expect."
So saying, with one sweep of his sabre he cut off a hand of the princess,
who was just able to lift the other to wave me an eternal farewell.
Then I lost consciousness for several minutes.

When I came to myself I implored the genius to keep me no longer
in this state of suspense, but to lose no time in putting an end to
my sufferings. The genius, however, paid no attention to my prayers,
but said sternly, "That is the way in which a genius treats the woman
who has betrayed him. If I chose, I could kill you also; but I
will be merciful, and content myself with changing you into a dog,
an ass, a lion, or a bird--whichever you prefer."

I caught eagerly at these words, as giving me a faint hope
of softening his wrath. "O genius!" I cried, "as you wish
to spare my life, be generous, and spare it altogether.
Grant my prayer, and pardon my crime, as the best man in the whole
world forgave his neighbour who was eaten up with envy of him."
Contrary to my hopes, the genius seemed interested in my words,
and said he would like to hear the story of the two neighbours;
and as I think, madam, it may please you, I will tell it to you also.



The Story of the Envious Man and of Him Who Was Envied


In a town of moderate size, two men lived in neighbouring houses;
but they had not been there very long before one man took such a
hatred of the other, and envied him so bitterly, that the poor man
determined to find another home, hoping that when they no longer
met every day his enemy would forget all about him. So he sold
his house and the little furniture it contained, and moved into
the capital of the country, which was luckily at no great distance.
About half a mile from this city he bought a nice little place,
with a large garden and a fair-sized court, in the centre of which
stood an old well.

In order to live a quieter life, the good man put on the robe
of a dervish, and divided his house into a quantity of small cells,
where he soon established a number of other dervishes.
The fame of his virtue gradually spread abroad, and many people,
including several of the highest quality, came to visit him and ask
his prayers.

Of course it was not long before his reputation reached the ears of
the man who envied him, and this wicked wretch resolved never to rest
till he had in some way worked ill to the dervish whom he hated.
So he left his house and his business to look after themselves,
and betook himself to the new dervish monastery, where he was
welcomed by the founder with all the warmth imaginable. The excuse
he gave for his appearance was that he had come to consult the
chief of the dervishes on a private matter of great importance.
"What I have to say must not be overheard," he whispered;
"command, I beg of you, that your dervishes retire into their cells,
as night is approaching, and meet me in the court."

The dervish did as he was asked without delay, and directly they
were alone together the envious man began to tell a long story,
edging, as they walked to and fro, always nearer to the well, and when
they were quite close, he seized the dervish and dropped him in.
He then ran off triumphantly, without having been seen by anyone,
and congratulating himself that the object of his hatred was dead,
and would trouble him no more.

But in this he was mistaken! The old well had long been inhabited
(unknown to mere human beings) by a set of fairies and genii,
who caught the dervish as he fell, so that he received no hurt.
The dervish himself could see nothing, but he took for granted that
something strange had happened, or he must certainly have been dashed
against the side of the well and been killed. He lay quite still,
and in a moment he heard a voice saying, "Can you guess whom this man
is that we have saved from death?"

"No," replied several other voices.

And the first speaker answered, "I will tell you. This man,
from pure goodness of heart, forsook the town where he lived and
came to dwell here, in the hope of curing one of his neighbours
of the envy he felt towards him. But his character soon won him
the esteem of all, and the envious man's hatred grew, till he
came here with the deliberate intention of causing his death.
And this he would have done, without our help, the very day before
the Sultan has arranged to visit this holy dervish, and to entreat
his prayers for the princess, his daughter."

"But what is the matter with the princess that she needs
the dervish's prayers?" asked another voice.

"She has fallen into the power of the genius Maimoum, the son of Dimdim,"
replied the first voice. "But it would be quite simple for this
holy chief of the dervishes to cure her if he only knew! In his
convent there is a black cat which has a tiny white tip to its tail.
Now to cure the princess the dervish must pull out seven of these
white hairs, burn three, and with their smoke perfume the head
of the princess. This will deliver her so completely that Maimoum,
the son of Dimdim, will never dare to approach her again."

The fairies and genii ceased talking, but the dervish did not forget
a word of all they had said; and when morning came he perceived
a place in the side of the well which was broken, and where he
could easily climb out.

The dervishes, who could not imagine what had become of him,
were enchanted at his reappearance. He told them of the attempt on
his life made by his guest of the previous day, and then retired into
his cell. He was soon joined here by the black cat of which the voice
had spoken, who came as usual to say good-morning to his master.
He took him on his knee and seized the opportunity to pull seven
white hairs out of his tail, and put them on one side till they
were needed.

The sun had not long risen before the Sultan, who was anxious
to leave nothing undone that might deliver the princess,
arrived with a large suite at the gate of the monastery,
and was received by the dervishes with profound respect.
The Sultan lost no time in declaring the object of his visit,
and leading the chief of the dervishes aside, he said to him,
"Noble scheik, you have guessed perhaps what I have come to ask you?"

"Yes, sire," answered the dervish; "if I am not mistaken, it is
the illness of the princess which has procured me this honour."

"You are right," returned the Sultan, "and you will give me fresh
life if you can by your prayers deliver my daughter from the strange
malady that has taken possession of her."

"Let your highness command her to come here, and I will see what I
can do."

The Sultan, full of hope, sent orders at once that the princess
was to set out as soon as possible, accompanied by her usual staff
of attendants. When she arrived, she was so thickly veiled that
the dervish could not see her face, but he desired a brazier to be
held over her head, and laid the seven hairs on the burning coals.
The instant they were consumed, terrific cries were heard,
but no one could tell from whom they proceeded. Only the dervish
guessed that they were uttered by Maimoum the son of Dimdim,
who felt the princess escaping him.

All this time she had seemed unconscious of what she was doing,
but now she raised her hand to her veil and uncovered her face.
"Where am I?" she said in a bewildered manner; "and how did I
get here?"

The Sultan was so delighted to hear these words that he not only
embraced his daughter, but kissed the hand of the dervish.
Then, turning to his attendants who stood round, he said to them,
"What reward shall I give to the man who has restored me my daughter?"

They all replied with one accord that he deserved the hand
of the princess.

"That is my own opinion," said he, "and from this moment I declare
him to be my son-in-law."

Shortly after these events, the grand-vizir died, and his post
was given to the dervish. But he did not hold it for long, for the
Sultan fell a victim to an attack of illness, and as he had no sons,
the soldiers and priests declared the dervish heir to the throne,
to the great joy of all the people.

One day, when the dervish, who had now become Sultan, was making
a royal progress with his court, he perceived the envious man standing
in the crowd. He made a sign to one of his vizirs, and whispered in
his ear, "Fetch me that man who is standing out there, but take great
care not to frighten him." The vizir obeyed, and when the envious man
was brought before the Sultan, the monarch said to him, "My friend,
I am delighted to see you again." Then turning to an officer,
he added, "Give him a thousand pieces of gold out of my treasury,
and twenty waggon-loads of merchandise out of my private stores,
and let an escort of soldiers accompany him home." He then took
leave of the envious man, and went on his way.

Now when I had ended my story, I proceeded to show the genius
how to apply it to himself. "O genius," I said, "you see that this
Sultan was not content with merely forgiving the envious man
for the attempt on his life; he heaped rewards and riches upon him."

But the genius had made up his mind, and could not be softened.
"Do not imagine that you are going to escape so easily," he said.
"All I can do is to give you bare life; you will have to learn what
happens to people who interfere with me."

As he spoke he seized me violently by the arm; the roof of the palace
opened to make way for us, and we mounted up so high into the air
that the earth looked like a little cloud. Then, as before,
he came down with the swiftness of lightning, and we touched
the ground on a mountain top.

Then he stooped and gathered a handful of earth, and murmured some
words over it, after which he threw the earth in my face, saying as
he did so, "Quit the form of a man, and assume that of a monkey."
This done, he vanished, and I was in the likeness of an ape,
and in a country I had never seen before.

However there was no use in stopping where I was, so I came down
the mountain and found myself in a flat plain which was bounded
by the sea. I travelled towards it, and was pleased to see a
vessel moored about half a mile from shore. There were no waves,
so I broke off the branch of a tree, and dragging it down to the
water's edge, sat across it, while, using two sticks for oars,
I rowed myself towards the ship.

The deck was full of people, who watched my progress with interest,
but when I seized a rope and swung myself on board, I found that I
had only escaped death at the hands of the genius to perish
by those of the sailors, lest I should bring ill-luck to the
vessel and the merchants. "Throw him into the sea!" cried one.
"Knock him on the head with a hammer," exclaimed another. "Let me
shoot him with an arrow," said a third; and certainly somebody
would have had his way if I had not flung myself at the captain's
feet and grasped tight hold of his dress. He appeared touched
by my action and patted my head, and declared that he would take
me under his protection, and that no one should do me any harm.

At the end of about fifty days we cast anchor before a large town,
and the ship was immediately surrounded by a multitude of small
boats filled with people, who had come either to meet their friends
or from simple curiosity. Among others, one boat contained several
officials, who asked to see the merchants on board, and informed
them that they had been sent by the Sultan in token of welcome,
and to beg them each to write a few lines on a roll of paper.
"In order to explain this strange request," continued the officers,
"it is necessary that you should know that the grand-vizir,
lately dead, was celebrated for his beautiful handwriting,
and the Sultan is anxious to find a similar talent in his successor.
Hitherto the search has been a failure, but his Highness has not yet
given up hope."

One after another the merchants set down a few lines upon the roll,
and when they had all finished, I came forward, and snatched
the paper from the man who held it. At first they all thought I
was going to throw it into the sea, but they were quieted when they
saw I held it with great care, and great was their surprise when I
made signs that I too wished to write something.

"Let him do it if he wants to," said the captain. "If he only makes
a mess of the paper, you may be sure I will punish him for it.
But if, as I hope, he really can write, for he is the cleverest
monkey I ever saw, I will adopt him as my son. The one I lost had
not nearly so much sense!"

No more was said, and I took the pen and wrote the six sorts
of writing in use among the Arabs, and each sort contained
an original verse or couplet, in praise of the Sultan. And not
only did my handwriting completely eclipse that of the merchants,
but it is hardly too much to say that none so beautiful had ever
before been seen in that country. When I had ended the officials
took the roll and returned to the Sultan.

As soon as the monarch saw my writing he did not so much as look
at the samples of the merchants, but desired his officials to take
the finest and most richly caparisoned horse in his stables,
together with the most magnificent dress they could procure,
and to put it on the person who had written those lines, and bring
him to court.

The officials began to laugh when they heard the Sultan's command,
but as soon as they could speak they said, "Deign, your highness,
to excuse our mirth, but those lines were not written by a man
but by a monkey."

"A monkey!" exclaimed the Sultan.

"Yes, sire," answered the officials. "They were written by a monkey
in our presence."

"Then bring me the monkey," he replied, "as fast as you can."

The Sultan's officials returned to the ship and showed the royal
order to the captain.

"He is the master," said the good man, and desired that I should
be sent for.

Then they put on me the gorgeous robe and rowed me to land, where I
was placed on the horse and led to the palace. Here the Sultan
was awaiting me in great state surrounded by his court.

All the way along the streets I had been the object of curiosity
to a vast crowd, which had filled every doorway and every window,
and it was amidst their shouts and cheers that I was ushered into
the presence of the Sultan.

I approached the throne on which he was seated and made him three
low bows, then prostrated myself at his feet to the surprise of everyone,
who could not understand how it was possible that a monkey should
be able to distinguish a Sultan from other people, and to pay him
the respect due to his rank. However, excepting the usual speech,
I omitted none of the common forms attending a royal audience.

When it was over the Sultan dismissed all the court, keeping with him
only the chief of the eunuchs and a little slave. He then passed
into another room and ordered food to be brought, making signs
to me to sit at table with him and eat. I rose from my seat,
kissed the ground, and took my place at the table, eating, as you
may suppose, with care and in moderation.

Before the dishes were removed I made signs that writing materials,
which stood in one corner of the room, should be laid in front of me.
I then took a peach and wrote on it some verses in praise of the Sultan,
who was speechless with astonishment; but when I did the same
thing on a glass from which I had drunk he murmured to himself,
"Why, a man who could do as much would be cleverer than any other man,
and this is only a monkey!"

Supper being over chessmen were brought, and the Sultan signed to me
to know if I would play with him. I kissed the ground and laid my hand
on my head to show that I was ready to show myself worthy of the honour.
He beat me the first game, but I won the second and third, and seeing
that this did not quite please I dashed off a verse by way of consolation.

The Sultan was so enchanted with all the talents of which I had given
proof that he wished me to exhibit some of them to other people.
So turning to the chief of the eunuchs he said, "Go and beg my daughter,
Queen of Beauty, to come here. I will show her something she has
never seen before."

The chief of the eunuchs bowed and left the room, ushering in a few
moments later the princess, Queen of Beauty. Her face was uncovered,
but the moment she set foot in the room she threw her veil over
her head. "Sire," she said to her father, "what can you be thinking
of to summon me like this into the presence of a man?"

"I do not understand you," replied the Sultan. "There is nobody
here but the eunuch, who is your own servant, the little slave,
and myself, yet you cover yourself with your veil and reproach me
for having sent for you, as if I had committed a crime."

"Sire," answered the princess, "I am right and you are wrong.
This monkey is really no monkey at all, but a young prince who has
been turned into a monkey by the wicked spells of a genius, son of
the daughter of Eblis."

As will be imagined, these words took the Sultan by surprise, and he
looked at me to see how I should take the statement of the princess.
As I was unable to speak, I placed my hand on my head to show that it
was true.

"But how do you know this, my daughter?" asked he.

"Sire," replied Queen of Beauty, "the old lady who took care of me
in my childhood was an accomplished magician, and she taught me
seventy rules of her art, by means of which I could, in the twinkling
of an eye, transplant your capital into the middle of the ocean.
Her art likewise teaches me to recognise at first sight all persons
who are enchanted, and tells me by whom the spell was wrought."

"My daughter," said the Sultan, "I really had no idea you were
so clever."

"Sire," replied the princess, "there are many out-of-the-way things
it is as well to know, but one should never boast of them."

"Well," asked the Sultan, "can you tell me what must be done
to disenchant the young prince?"

"Certainly; and I can do it."

"Then restore him to his former shape," cried the Sultan.
"You could give me no greater pleasure, for I wish to make him
my grand-vizir, and to give him to you for your husband."

"As your Highness pleases," replied the princess.

Queen of Beauty rose and went to her chamber, from which she
fetched a knife with some Hebrew words engraven on the blade.
She then desired the Sultan, the chief of the eunuchs, the little
slave, and myself to descend into a secret court of the palace,
and placed us beneath a gallery which ran all round, she herself
standing in the centre of the court. Here she traced a large
circle and in it wrote several words in Arab characters.

When the circle and the writing were finished she stood in the middle
of it and repeated some verses from the Koran. Slowly the air
grew dark, and we felt as if the earth was about to crumble away,
and our fright was by no means diminished at seeing the genius,
son of the daughter of Eblis, suddenly appear under the form of a
colossal lion.

"Dog," cried the princess when she first caught sight of him,
"you think to strike terror into me by daring to present yourself
before me in this hideous shape."

"And you," retorted the lion, "have not feared to break our treaty
that engaged solemnly we should never interfere with each other."

"Accursed genius!" exclaimed the princess, "it is you by whom
that treaty was first broken."

"I will teach you how to give me so much trouble," said the lion,
and opening his huge mouth he advanced to swallow her. But the
princess expected something of the sort and was on her guard.
She bounded on one side, and seizing one of the hairs of his mane
repeated two or three words over it. In an instant it became a sword,
and with a sharp blow she cut the lion's body into two pieces.
These pieces vanished no one knew where, and only the lion's
head remained, which was at once changed into a scorpion.
Quick as thought the princess assumed the form of a serpent
and gave battle to the scorpion, who, finding he was getting
the worst of it, turned himself into an eagle and took flight.
But in a moment the serpent had become an eagle more powerful still,
who soared up in the air and after him, and then we lost sight of
them both.

We all remained where we were quaking with anxiety, when the ground
opened in front of us and a black and white cat leapt out, its hair
standing on end, and miauing frightfully. At its heels was a wolf,
who had almost seized it, when the cat changed itself into a worm,
and, piercing the skin of a pomegranate which had tumbled from a tree,
hid itself in the fruit. The pomegranate swelled till it grew as
large as a pumpkin, and raised itself on to the roof of the gallery,
from which it fell into the court and was broken into bits.
While this was taking place the wolf, who had transformed himself
into a cock, began to swallow the seed of the pomegranate as fast
as he could. When all were gone he flew towards us, flapping his
wings as if to ask if we saw any more, when suddenly his eye fell
on one which lay on the bank of the little canal that flowed
through the court; he hastened towards it, but before he could touch
it the seed rolled into the canal and became a fish. The cock
flung himself in after the fish and took the shape of a pike,
and for two hours they chased each other up and down under the water,
uttering horrible cries, but we could see nothing. At length they
rose from the water in their proper forms, but darting such flames
of fire from their mouths that we dreaded lest the palace should
catch fire. Soon, however, we had much greater cause for alarm,
as the genius, having shaken off the princess, flew towards us.
Our fate would have been sealed if the princess, seeing our danger,
had not attracted the attention of the genius to herself. As it was,
the Sultan's beard was singed and his face scorched, the chief
of the eunuchs was burned to a cinder, while a spark deprived me
of the sight of one eye. Both I and the Sultan had given up all
hope of a rescue, when there was a shout of "Victory, victory!"
from the princess, and the genius lay at her feet a great heap
of ashes.

Exhausted though she was, the princess at once ordered the little slave,
who alone was uninjured, to bring her a cup of water, which she
took in her hand. First repeating some magic words over it,
she dashed it into my face saying, "If you are only a monkey
by enchantment, resume the form of the man you were before."
In an instant I stood before her the same man I had formerly been,
though having lost the sight of one eye.

I was about to fall on my knees and thank the princess but she did
not give me time. Turning to the Sultan, her father, she said,
"Sire, I have gained the battle, but it has cost me dear. The fire
has penetrated to my heart, and I have only a few moments to live.
This would not have happened if I had only noticed the last
pomegranate seed and eaten it like the rest. It was the last
struggle of the genius, and up to that time I was quite safe.
But having let this chance slip I was forced to resort to fire,
and in spite of all his experience I showed the genius that I
knew more than he did. He is dead and in ashes, but my own
death is approaching fast." "My daughter," cried the Sultan,
"how sad is my condition! I am only surprised I am alive at all!
The eunuch is consumed by the flames, and the prince whom you have
delivered has lost the sight of one eye." He could say no more,
for sobs choked his voice, and we all wept together.

Suddenly the princess shrieked, "I burn, I burn!" and death came
to free her from her torments.

I have no words, madam, to tell you of my feelings at this
terrible sight. I would rather have remained a monkey all my
life than let my benefactress perish in this shocking manner.
As for the Sultan, he was quite inconsolable, and his subjects,
who had dearly loved the princess, shared his grief. For seven
days the whole nation mourned, and then the ashes of the princess
were buried with great pomp, and a superb tomb was raised over her.

As soon as the Sultan recovered from the severe illness which
had seized him after the death of the princess he sent for me
and plainly, though politely, informed me that my presence would
always remind him of his loss, and he begged that I would instantly
quit his kingdom, and on pain of death never return to it. I was,
of course, bound to obey, and not knowing what was to become of me
I shaved my beard and eyebrows and put on the dress of a calender.
After wandering aimlessly through several countries, I resolved to come
to Bagdad and request an audience of the Commander of the Faithful.

And that, madam, is my story.

The other Calender then told his story.



Story of the Third Calendar, Son of a King


My story, said the Third Calender, is quite different from those
of my two friends. It was fate that deprived them of the sight
of their right eyes, but mine was lost by my own folly.

My name is Agib, and I am the son of a king called Cassib,
who reigned over a large kingdom, which had for its capital
one of the finest seaport towns in the world.

When I succeeded to my father's throne my first care was to visit
the provinces on the mainland, and then to sail to the numerous
islands which lay off the shore, in order to gain the hearts
of my subjects. These voyages gave me such a taste for sailing
that I soon determined to explore more distant seas, and commanded
a fleet of large ships to be got ready without delay. When they
were properly fitted out I embarked on my expedition.

For forty days wind and weather were all in our favour, but the
next night a terrific storm arose, which blew us hither and thither
for ten days, till the pilot confessed that he had quite lost
his bearings. Accordingly a sailor was sent up to the masthead to try
to catch a sight of land, and reported that nothing was to be seen
but the sea and sky, except a huge mass of blackness that lay astern.

On hearing this the pilot grew white, and, beating his breast,
he cried, "Oh, sir, we are lost, lost!" till the ship's crew trembled
at they knew not what. When he had recovered himself a little,
and was able to explain the cause of his terror, he replied,
in answer to my question, that we had drifted far out of our course,
and that the following day about noon we should come near that mass
of darkness, which, said he, is nothing but the famous Black Mountain.
This mountain is composed of adamant, which attracts to itself
all the iron and nails in your ship; and as we are helplessly
drawn nearer, the force of attraction will become so great that the
iron and nails will fall out of the ships and cling to the mountain,
and the ships will sink to the bottom with all that are in them.
This it is that causes the side of the mountain towards the sea to
appear of such a dense blackness.

As may be supposed--continued the pilot--the mountain sides
are very rugged, but on the summit stands a brass dome supported
on pillars, and bearing on top the figure of a brass horse,
with a rider on his back. This rider wears a breastplate of lead,
on which strange signs and figures are engraved, and it is said
that as long as this statue remains on the dome, vessels will
never cease to perish at the foot of the mountain.

So saying, the pilot began to weep afresh, and the crew, fearing their
last hour had come, made their wills, each one in favour of his fellow.

At noon next day, as the pilot had foretold, we were so near to the
Black Mountain that we saw all the nails and iron fly out of the ships
and dash themselves against the mountain with a horrible noise.
A moment after the vessels fell asunder and sank, the crews with them.
I alone managed to grasp a floating plank, and was driven ashore
by the wind, without even a scratch. What was my joy on finding
myself at the bottom of some steps which led straight up the mountain,
for there was not another inch to the right or the left where a man
could set his foot. And, indeed, even the steps themselves were
so narrow and so steep that, if the lightest breeze had arisen,
I should certainly have been blown into the sea.

When I reached the top I found the brass dome and the statue exactly
as the pilot had described, but was too wearied with all I had
gone through to do more than glance at them, and, flinging myself
under the dome, was asleep in an instant. In my dreams an old man
appeared to me and said, "Hearken, Agib! As soon as thou art awake
dig up the ground underfoot, and thou shalt find a bow of brass and
three arrows of lead. Shoot the arrows at the statue, and the rider
shall tumble into the sea, but the horse will fall down by thy side,
and thou shalt bury him in the place from which thou tookest the bow
and arrows. This being done the sea will rise and cover the mountain,
and on it thou wilt perceive the figure of a metal man seated
in a boat, having an oar in each hand. Step on board and let
him conduct thee; but if thou wouldest behold thy kingdom again,
see that thou takest not the name of Allah into thy mouth."

Having uttered these words the vision left me, and I woke,
much comforted. I sprang up and drew the bow and arrows out of
the ground, and with the third shot the horseman fell with a great
crash into the sea, which instantly began to rise, so rapidly, that I
had hardly time to bury the horse before the boat approached me.
I stepped silently in and sat down, and the metal man pushed off,
and rowed without stopping for nine days, after which land appeared
on the horizon. I was so overcome with joy at this sight that I
forgot all the old man had told me, and cried out, "Allah be praised!
Allah be praised!"

The words were scarcely out of my mouth when the boat and man
sank from beneath me, and left me floating on the surface.
All that day and the next night I swam and floated alternately,
making as well as I could for the land which was nearest to me.
At last my strength began to fail, and I gave myself up for lost,
when the wind suddenly rose, and a huge wave cast me on a flat shore.
Then, placing myself in safety, I hastily spread my clothes out to dry
in the sun, and flung myself on the warm ground to rest.

Next morning I dressed myself and began to look about me.
There seemed to be no one but myself on the island, which was covered
with fruit trees and watered with streams, but seemed a long distance
from the mainland which I hoped to reach. Before, however, I had
time to feel cast down, I saw a ship making directly for the island,
and not knowing whether it would contain friends or foes, I hid
myself in the thick branches of a tree.

The sailors ran the ship into a creek, where ten slaves landed,
carrying spades and pickaxes. In the middle of the island they stopped,
and after digging some time, lifted up what seemed to be a trapdoor.
They then returned to the vessel two or three times for furniture
and provisions, and finally were accompanied by an old man,
leading a handsome boy of fourteen or fifteen years of age.
They all disappeared down the trapdoor, and after remaining below
for a few minutes came up again, but without the boy, and let
down the trapdoor, covering it with earth as before. This done,
they entered the ship and set sail.

As soon as they were out of sight, I came down from my tree,
and went to the place where the boy had been buried. I dug up
the earth till I reached a large stone with a ring in the centre.
This, when removed, disclosed a flight of stone steps which led
to a large room richly furnished and lighted by tapers. On a pile
of cushions, covered with tapestry, sat the boy. He looked up,
startled and frightened at the sight of a stranger in such a place,
and to soothe his fears, I at once spoke: "Be not alarmed, sir,
whoever you may be. I am a king, and the son of a king, and will
do you no hurt. On the contrary, perhaps I have been sent here
to deliver you out of this tomb, where you have been buried alive."

Hearing my words, the young man recovered himself, and when I had ended,
he said, "The reasons, Prince, that have caused me to be buried
in this place are so strange that they cannot but surprise you.
My father is a rich merchant, owning much land and many ships,
and has great dealings in precious stones, but he never ceased
mourning that he had no child to inherit his wealth.

"At length one day he dreamed that the following year a son would
be born to him, and when this actually happened, he consulted
all the wise men in the kingdom as to the future of the infant.
One and all they said the same thing. I was to live happily
till I was fifteen, when a terrible danger awaited me, which I
should hardly escape. If, however, I should succeed in doing so,
I should live to a great old age. And, they added, when the statue
of the brass horse on the top of the mountain of adamant is thrown
into the sea by Agib, the son of Cassib, then beware, for fifty days
later your son shall fall by his hand!

"This prophecy struck the heart of my father with such woe, that he
never got over it, but that did not prevent him from attending
carefully to my education till I attained, a short time ago,
my fifteenth birthday. It was only yesterday that the news
reached him that ten days previously the statue of brass had been
thrown into the sea, and he at once set about hiding me in this
underground chamber, which was built for the purpose, promising to
fetch me out when the forty days have passed. For myself, I have
no fears, as Prince Agib is not likely to come here to look for me."

I listened to his story with an inward laugh as to the absurdity of my
ever wishing to cause the death of this harmless boy, whom I hastened
to assure of my friendship and even of my protection; begging him,
in return, to convey me in his father's ship to my own country.
I need hardly say that I took special care not to inform him that I
was the Agib whom he dreaded.

The day passed in conversation on various subjects, and I found him
a youth of ready wit and of some learning. I took on myself the
duties of a servant, held the basin and water for him when he washed,
prepared the dinner and set it on the table. He soon grew to love me,
and for thirty-nine days we spent as pleasant an existence as could
be expected underground.

The morning of the fortieth dawned, and the young man when he woke
gave thanks in an outburst of joy that the danger was passed.
"My father may be here at any moment," said he, "so make me, I pray you,
a bath of hot water, that I may bathe, and change my clothes,
and be ready to receive him."

So I fetched the water as he asked, and washed and rubbed him,
after which he lay down again and slept a little. When he opened
his eyes for the second time, he begged me to bring him a melon
and some sugar, that he might eat and refresh himself.

I soon chose a fine melon out of those which remained, but could
find no knife to cut it with. "Look in the cornice over my head,"
said he, "and I think you will see one." It was so high above me,
that I had some difficulty in reaching it, and catching my foot in the
covering of the bed, I slipped, and fell right upon the young man,
the knife going straight into his heart.

At this awful sight I shrieked aloud in my grief and pain.
I threw myself on the ground and rent my clothes and tore my hair
with sorrow. Then, fearing to be punished as his murderer by the
unhappy father, I raised the great stone which blocked the staircase,
and quitting the underground chamber, made everything fast as before.

Scarcely had I finished when, looking out to sea, I saw the vessel
heading for the island, and, feeling that it would be useless
for me to protest my innocence, I again concealed myself among
the branches of a tree that grew near by.

The old man and his slaves pushed off in a boat directly the ship
touched land, and walked quickly towards the entrance to the
underground chamber; but when they were near enough to see that
the earth had been disturbed, they paused and changed colour.
In silence they all went down and called to the youth by name;
then for a moment I heard no more. Suddenly a fearful scream
rent the air, and the next instant the slaves came up the steps,
carrying with them the body of the old man, who had fainted from sorrow!
Laying him down at the foot of the tree in which I had taken shelter,
they did their best to recover him, but it took a long while.
When at last he revived, they left him to dig a grave, and then laying
the young man's body in it, they threw in the earth.

This ended, the slaves brought up all the furniture that remained below,
and put it on the vessel, and breaking some boughs to weave
a litter, they laid the old man on it, and carried him to the ship,
which spread its sails and stood out to sea.

So once more I was quite alone, and for a whole month I walked daily
over the island, seeking for some chance of escape. At length
one day it struck me that my prison had grown much larger, and that
the mainland seemed to be nearer. My heart beat at this thought,
which was almost too good to be true. I watched a little longer:
there was no doubt about it, and soon there was only a tiny stream
for me to cross.

Even when I was safe on the other side I had a long distance to go
on the mud and sand before I reached dry ground, and very tired I was,
when far in front of me I caught sight of a castle of red copper,
which, at first sight, I took to be a fire. I made all the haste
I could, and after some miles of hard walking stood before it,
and gazed at it in astonishment, for it seemed to me the most wonderful
building I had ever beheld. While I was still staring at it,
there came towards me a tall old man, accompanied by ten young men,
all handsome, and all blind of the right eye.

Now in its way, the spectacle of ten men walking together, all blind
of the right eye, is as uncommon as that of a copper castle, and I was
turning over in my mind what could be the meaning of this strange fact,
when they greeted me warmly, and inquired what had brought me there.
I replied that my story was somewhat long, but that if they would
take the trouble to sit down, I should be happy to tell it them.
When I had finished, the young men begged that I would go
with them to the castle, and I joyfully accepted their offer.
We passed through what seemed to me an endless number of rooms,
and came at length into a large hall, furnished with ten small
blue sofas for the ten young men, which served as beds as well
as chairs, and with another sofa in the middle for the old man.
As none of the sofas could hold more than one person, they bade me
place myself on the carpet, and to ask no questions about anything I
should see.

After a little while the old man rose and brought in supper, which I
ate heartily, for I was very hungry. Then one of the young men begged
me to repeat my story, which had struck them all with astonishment,
and when I had ended, the old man was bidden to "do his duty,"
as it was late, and they wished to go to bed. At these words
he rose, and went to a closet, from which he brought out ten basins,
all covered with blue stuff. He set one before each of the young men,
together with a lighted taper.

When the covers were taken off the basins, I saw they were filled
with ashes, coal-dust, and lamp-black. The young men mixed these
all together, and smeared the whole over their heads and faces.
They then wept and beat their breasts, crying, "This is the fruit
of idleness, and of our wicked lives."

This ceremony lasted nearly the whole night, and when it stopped
they washed themselves carefully, and put on fresh clothes,
and lay down to sleep.

All this while I had refrained from questions, though my curiosity
almost seemed to burn a hole in me, but the following day, when we went
out to walk, I said to them, "Gentlemen, I must disobey your wishes,
for I can keep silence no more. You do not appear to lack wit,
yet you do such actions as none but madmen could be capable of.
Whatever befalls me I cannot forbear asking, `Why you daub your
faces with black, and how it is you are all blind of one eye?'"
But they only answered that such questions were none of my business,
and that I should do well to hold my peace.

During that day we spoke of other things, but when night came,
and the same ceremony was repeated, I implored them most earnestly
to let me know the meaning of it all.

"It is for your own sake," replied one of the young men, "that we have
not granted your request, and to preserve you from our unfortunate fate.
If, however, you wish to share our destiny we will delay no longer."

I answered that whatever might be the consequence I wished to have
my curiosity satisfied, and that I would take the result on my
own head. He then assured me that, even when I had lost my eye,
I should be unable to remain with them, as their number was complete,
and could not be added to. But to this I replied that, though I
should be grieved to part company with such honest gentlemen,
I would not be turned from my resolution on that account.

On hearing my determination my ten hosts then took a sheep and
killed it, and handed me a knife, which they said I should by-and-by
find useful. "We must sew you into this sheep-skin," said they,
"and then leave you. A fowl of monstrous size, called a roc,
will appear in the air, taking you to be a sheep. He will snatch
you up and carry you into the sky, but be not alarmed, for he
will bring you safely down and lay you on the top of a mountain.
When you are on the ground cut the skin with the knife and throw
it off. As soon as the roc sees you he will fly away from fear,
but you must walk on till you come to a castle covered with
plates of gold, studded with jewels. Enter boldly at the gate,
which always stands open, but do not ask us to tell you what we
saw or what befel us there, for that you will learn for yourself.
This only we may say, that it cost us each our right eye, and has
imposed upon us our nightly penance."

After the young gentlemen had been at the trouble of sewing
the sheep-skin on me they left me, and retired to the hall.
In a few minutes the roc appeared, and bore me off to the
top of the mountain in his huge claws as lightly as if I
had been a feather, for this great white bird is so strong
that he has been known to carry even an elephant to his nest in the hills.

The moment my feet touched the ground I took out my knife and cut
the threads that bound me, and the sight of me in my proper clothes
so alarmed the roc that he spread his wings and flew away.
Then I set out to seek the castle.

I found it after wandering about for half a day, and never could I
have imagined anything so glorious. The gate led into a square court,
into which opened a hundred doors, ninety-nine of them being
of rare woods and one of gold. Through each of these doors
I caught glimpses of splendid gardens or of rich storehouses.

Entering one of the doors which was standing open I found myself
in a vast hall where forty young ladies, magnificently dressed,
and of perfect beauty, were reclining. As soon as they saw
me they rose and uttered words of welcome, and even forced me
to take possession of a seat that was higher than their own,
though my proper place was at their feet. Not content with this,
one brought me splendid garments, while another filled a basin
with scented water and poured it over my hands, and the rest
busied themselves with preparing refreshments. After I had eaten
and drunk of the most delicate food and rarest wines, the ladies
crowded round me and begged me to tell them all my adventures.

By the time I had finished night had fallen, and the ladies lighted
up the castle with such a prodigious quantity of tapers that even day
could hardly have been brighter. We then sat down to a supper of dried
fruits and sweetmeats, after which some sang and others danced.
I was so well amused that I did not notice how the time was passing,
but at length one of the ladies approached and informed me it
was midnight, and that, as I must be tired, she would conduct
me to the room that had been prepared for me. Then, bidding me
good-night, I was left to sleep.

I spent the next thirty-nine days in much the same way as the first,
but at the close of that time the ladies appeared (as was their custom)
in my room one morning to inquire how I had slept, and instead
of looking cheerful and smiling they were in floods of tears.
"Prince," said they, "we must leave you, and never was it so hard
to part from any of our friends. Most likely we shall never see
you again, but if you have sufficient self-command perhaps we may yet
look forward to a meeting."

"Ladies," I replied, "what is the meaning of these strange words--
I pray you to tell me?"

"Know then," answered one of them, "that we are all princesses--
each a king's daughter. We live in this castle together, in the way
that you have seen, but at the end of every year secret duties
call us away for the space of forty days. The time has now come;
but before we depart, we will leave you our keys, so that you
may not lack entertainment during our absence. But one thing
we would ask of you. The Golden Door, alone, forbear to open,
as you value your own peace, and the happiness of your life.
That door once unlocked, we must bid you farewell for ever."

Weeping, I assured them of my prudence, and after embracing
me tenderly, they went their ways.

Every day I opened two or three fresh doors, each of which
contained behind it so many curious things that I had no chance
of feeling dull, much as I regretted the absence of the ladies.
Sometimes it was an orchard, whose fruit far exceeded in bigness
any that grew in my father's garden. Sometimes it was a court
planted with roses, jessamine, dafeodils, hyacinths and anemones,
and a thousand other flowers of which I did not know the names.
Or again, it would be an aviary, fitted with all kinds of singing birds,
or a treasury heaped up with precious stones; but whatever I might see,
all was perfect of its own sort.

Thirty-nine days passed away more rapidly than I could have
conceived possible, and the following morning the princesses were
to return to the castle. But alas! I had explored every corner,
save only the room that was shut in by the Golden Door, and I
had no longer anything to amuse myself with. I stood before the
forbidden place for some time, gazing at its beauty; then a happy
inspiration struck me, that because I unlocked the door it was not
necessary that I should enter the chamber. It would be enough
for me to stand outside and view whatever hidden wonders might be therein.

Thus arguing against my own conscience, I turned the key, when a smell
rushed out that, pleasant though it was, overcame me completely,
and I fell fainting across the threshold. Instead of being warned
by this accident, directly I came to myself I went for a few
moments into the air to shake of the effects of the perfume,
and then entered boldly. I found myself in a large, vaulted room,
lighted by tapers, scented with aloes and ambergris, standing in golden
candle-sticks, whilst gold and silver lamps hung from the ceiling.

Though objects of rare workmanship lay heaped around me, I paid them
scant attention, so much was I struck by a great black horse which stood
in one corner, the handsomest and best-shaped animal I had ever seen.
His saddle and bridle were of massive gold, curiously wrought;
one side of his trough was filled with clean barley and sesame,
and the other with rose water. I led the animal into the open air,
and then jumped on his back, shaking the reins as I did so, but as he
never stirred, I touched him lightly with a switch I had picked up
in his stable. No sooner did he feel the stroke, than he spread
his wings (which I had not perceived before), and flew up with me
straight into the sky. When he had reached a prodigious height,
he next darted back to earth, and alighted on the terrace belonging
to a castle, shaking me violently out of the saddle as he did so,
and giving me such a blow with his tail, that he knocked out my
right eye.

Half-stunned as I was with all that had happened to me, I rose
to my feet, thinking as I did so of what had befallen the ten
young men, and watching the horse which was soaring into the clouds.
I left the terrace and wandered on till I came to a hall,
which I knew to have been the one from which the roc had taken me,
by the ten blue sofas against the wall.

The ten young men were not present when I first entered, but came
in soon after, accompanied by the old man. They greeted me kindly,
and bewailed my misfortune, though, indeed, they had expected
nothing less. "All that has happened to you," they said, "we also
have undergone, and we should be enjoying the same happiness still,
had we not opened the Golden Door while the princesses were absent.
You have been no wiser than we, and have suffered the same punishment.
We would gladly receive you among us, to perform such penance
as we do, but we have already told you that this is impossible.
Depart, therefore, from hence and go to the Court of Bagdad,
where you shall meet with him that can decide your destiny."
They told me the way I was to travel, and I left them.

On the road I caused my beard and eyebrows to be shaved, and put
on a Calender's habit. I have had a long journey, but arrived this
evening in the city, where I met my brother Calenders at the gate,
being strangers like myself. We wondered much at one another,
to see we were all blind of the same eye, but we had no leisure
to discourse at length of our common calamities. We had only so much
time as to come hither to implore those favours which you have been
generously pleased to grant us.

He finished, and it was Zobeida's turn to speak: "Go wherever
you please," she said, addressing all three. "I pardon you all,
but you must depart immediately out of this house."



The Seven Voyages of Sindbad the Sailor


IN the times of the Caliph Haroun-al-Raschid there lived in Bagdad
a poor porter named Hindbad, who on a very hot day was sent
to carry a heavy load from one end of the city to the other.
Before he had accomplished half the distance he was so tired that,
finding himself in a quiet street where the pavement was sprinkled
with rose water, and a cool breeze was blowing, he set his burden
upon the ground, and sat down to rest in the shade of a grand house.
Very soon he decided that he could not have chosen a pleasanter place;
a delicious perfume of aloes wood and pastilles came from the open
windows and mingled with the scent of the rose water which steamed
up from the hot pavement. Within the palace he heard some music,
as of many instruments cunningly played, and the melodious warble
of nightingales and other birds, and by this, and the appetising smell
of many dainty dishes of which he presently became aware, he judged
that feasting and merry making were going on. He wondered who lived
in this magnificent house which he had never seen before, the street
in which it stood being one which he seldom had occasion to pass.
To satisfy his curiosity he went up to some splendidly dressed servants
who stood at the door, and asked one of them the name of the master
of the mansion.

"What," replied he, "do you live in Bagdad, and not know that here
lives the noble Sindbad the Sailor, that famous traveller who sailed
over every sea upon which the sun shines?"

The porter, who had often heard people speak of the immense wealth
of Sindbad, could not help feeling envious of one whose lot seemed
to be as happy as his own was miserable. Casting his eyes up
to the sky he exclaimed aloud,

"Consider, Mighty Creator of all things, the differences between
Sindbad's life and mine. Every day I suffer a thousand hardships
and misfortunes, and have hard work to get even enough bad barley
bread to keep myself and my family alive, while the lucky Sindbad
spends money right and left and lives upon the fat of the land!
What has he done that you should give him this pleasant life--
what have I done to deserve so hard a fate?"

So saying he stamped upon the ground like one beside himself with misery
and despair. Just at this moment a servant came out of the palace,
and taking him by the arm said, "Come with me, the noble Sindbad,
my master, wishes to speak to you."

Hindbad was not a little surprised at this summons, and feared that his
unguarded words might have drawn upon him the displeasure of Sindbad,
so he tried to excuse himself upon the pretext that he could not
leave the burden which had been entrusted to him in the street.
However the lackey promised him that it should be taken care of,
and urged him to obey the call so pressingly that at last the porter
was obliged to yield.

He followed the servant into a vast room, where a great company
was seated round a table covered with all sorts of delicacies.
In the place of honour sat a tall, grave man whose long white
beard gave him a venerable air. Behind his chair stood a crowd
of attendants eager to minister to his wants. This was the famous
Sindbad himself. The porter, more than ever alarmed at the sight
of so much magnificence, tremblingly saluted the noble company.
Sindbad, making a sign to him to approach, caused him to be seated
at his right hand, and himself heaped choice morsels upon his plate,
and poured out for him a draught of excellent wine, and presently,
when the banquet drew to a close, spoke to him familiarly, asking his
name and occupation.

"My lord," replied the porter, "I am called Hindbad."

"I am glad to see you here," continued Sindbad. "And I will answer
for the rest of the company that they are equally pleased, but I wish
you to tell me what it was that you said just now in the street."
For Sindbad, passing by the open window before the feast began,
had heard his complaint and therefore had sent for him.

At this question Hindbad was covered with confusion, and hanging down
his head, replied, "My lord, I confess that, overcome by weariness and
ill-humour, I uttered indiscreet words, which I pray you to pardon me."

"Oh!" replied Sindbad, "do not imagine that I am so unjust as to blame
you. On the contrary, I understand your situation and can pity you.
Only you appear to be mistaken about me, and I wish to set you right.
You doubtless imagine that I have acquired all the wealth and luxury
that you see me enjoy without difficulty or danger, but this is far
indeed from being the case. I have only reached this happy state
after having for years suffered every possible kind of toil and danger.

"Yes, my noble friends," he continued, addressing the company,
"I assure you that my adventures have been strange enough to deter even
the most avaricious men from seeking wealth by traversing the seas.
Since you have, perhaps, heard but confused accounts of my seven voyages,
and the dangers and wonders that I have met with by sea and land,
I will now give you a full and true account of them, which I think
you will be well pleased to hear."

As Sindbad was relating his adventures chiefly on account of
the porter, he ordered, before beginning his tale, that the burden
which had been left in the street should be carried by some of his
own servants to the place for which Hindbad had set out at first,
while he remained to listen to the story.



First Voyage


I had inherited considerable wealth from my parents, and being
young and foolish I at first squandered it recklessly upon every
kind of pleasure, but presently, finding that riches speedily take
to themselves wings if managed as badly as I was managing mine,
and remembering also that to be old and poor is misery indeed,
I began to bethink me of how I could make the best of what still
remained to me. I sold all my household goods by public auction,
and joined a company of merchants who traded by sea, embarking with
them at Balsora in a ship which we had fitted out between us.

We set sail and took our course towards the East Indies by the
Persian Gulf, having the coast of Persia upon our left hand and upon
our right the shores of Arabia Felix. I was at first much troubled
by the uneasy motion of the vessel, but speedily recovered my health,
and since that hour have been no more plagued by sea-sickness.

From time to time we landed at various islands, where we sold or
exchanged our merchandise, and one day, when the wind dropped suddenly,
we found ourselves becalmed close to a small island like a green meadow,
which only rose slightly above the surface of the water. Our sails
were furled, and the captain gave permission to all who wished
to land for a while and amuse themselves. I was among the number,
but when after strolling about for some time we lighted a fire
and sat down to enjoy the repast which we had brought with us,
we were startled by a sudden and violent trembling of the island,
while at the same moment those left upon the ship set up an outcry
bidding us come on board for our lives, since what we had taken
for an island was nothing but the back of a sleeping whale.
Those who were nearest to the boat threw themselves into it,
others sprang into the sea, but before I could save myself the whale
plunged suddenly into the depths of the ocean, leaving me clinging
to a piece of the wood which we had brought to make our fire.
Meanwhile a breeze had sprung up, and in the confusion that ensued
on board our vessel in hoisting the sails and taking up those who were
in the boat and clinging to its sides, no one missed me and I was
left at the mercy of the waves. All that day I floated up and down,
now beaten this way, now that, and when night fell I despaired for
my life; but, weary and spent as I was, I clung to my frail support,
and great was my joy when the morning light showed me that I had
drifted against an island.

The cliffs were high and steep, but luckily for me some tree-roots
protruded in places, and by their aid I climbed up at last,
and stretched myself upon the turf at the top, where I lay,
more dead than alive, till the sun was high in the heavens.
By that time I was very hungry, but after some searching I came
upon some eatable herbs, and a spring of clear water, and much
refreshed I set out to explore the island. Presently I reached
a great plain where a grazing horse was tethered, and as I stood
looking at it I heard voices talking apparently underground, and in
a moment a man appeared who asked me how I came upon the island.
I told him my adventures, and heard in return that he was one
of the grooms of Mihrage, the king of the island, and that each
year they came to feed their master's horses in this plain.
He took me to a cave where his companions were assembled, and when I
had eaten of the food they set before me, they bade me think myself
fortunate to have come upon them when I did, since they were going
back to their master on the morrow, and without their aid I could
certainly never have found my way to the inhabited part of the island.

Early the next morning we accordingly set out, and when we reached
the capital I was graciously received by the king, to whom I related
my adventures, upon which he ordered that I should be well cared
for and provided with such things as I needed. Being a merchant
I sought out men of my own profession, and particularly those
who came from foreign countries, as I hoped in this way to hear
news from Bagdad, and find out some means of returning thither,
for the capital was situated upon the sea-shore, and visited
by vessels from all parts of the world. In the meantime I heard
many curious things, and answered many questions concerning my
own country, for I talked willingly with all who came to me.
Also to while away the time of waiting I explored a little island
named Cassel, which belonged to King Mihrage, and which was supposed
to be inhabited by a spirit named Deggial. Indeed, the sailors
assured me that often at night the playing of timbals could be
heard upon it. However, I saw nothing strange upon my voyage,
saving some fish that were full two hundred cubits long, but were
fortunately more in dread of us than even we were of them, and fled
from us if we did but strike upon a board to frighten them.
Other fishes there were only a cubit long which had heads like owls.

One day after my return, as I went down to the quay, I saw a ship
which had just cast anchor, and was discharging her cargo,
while the merchants to whom it belonged were busily directing
the removal of it to their warehouses. Drawing nearer I presently
noticed that my own name was marked upon some of the packages,
and after having carefully examined them, I felt sure that they
were indeed those which I had put on board our ship at Balsora.
I then recognised the captain of the vessel, but as I was certain
that he believed me to be dead, I went up to him and asked who owned
the packages that I was looking at.

"There was on board my ship," he replied, "a merchant of Bagdad
named Sindbad. One day he and several of my other passengers
landed upon what we supposed to be an island, but which was
really an enormous whale floating asleep upon the waves.
No sooner did it feel upon its back the heat of the fire which
had been kindled, than it plunged into the depths of the sea.
Several of the people who were upon it perished in the waters,
and among others this unlucky Sindbad. This merchandise is his,
but I have resolved to dispose of it for the benefit of his family
if I should ever chance to meet with them."

"Captain," said I, "I am that Sindbad whom you believe to be dead,
and these are my possessions!"

When the captain heard these words he cried out in amazement,
"Lackaday! and what is the world coming to? In these days there
is not an honest man to be met with. Did I not with my own
eyes see Sindbad drown, and now you have the audacity to tell
me that you are he! I should have taken you to be a just man,
and yet for the sake of obtaining that which does not belong to you,
you are ready to invent this horrible falsehood."

"Have patience, and do me the favour to hear my story," said I.

"Speak then," replied the captain, "I'm all attention."

So I told him of my escape and of my fortunate meeting with the
king's grooms, and how kindly I had been received at the palace.
Very soon I began to see that I had made some impression upon him,
and after the arrival of some of the other merchants, who showed
great joy at once more seeing me alive, he declared that he also
recognised me.

Throwing himself upon my neck he exclaimed, "Heaven be praised
that you have escaped from so great a danger. As to your goods,
I pray you take them, and dispose of them as you please."
I thanked him, and praised his honesty, begging him to accept
several bales of merchandise in token of my gratitude, but he
would take nothing. Of the choicest of my goods I prepared
a present for King Mihrage, who was at first amazed, having known
that I had lost my all. However, when I had explained to him
how my bales had been miraculously restored to me, he graciously
accepted my gifts, and in return gave me many valuable things.
I then took leave of him, and exchanging my merchandise for sandal
and aloes wood, camphor, nutmegs, cloves, pepper, and ginger,
I embarked upon the same vessel and traded so successfully upon
our homeward voyage that I arrived in Balsora with about one
hundred thousand sequins. My family received me with as much joy
as I felt upon seeing them once more. I bought land and slaves,
and built a great house in which I resolved to live happily, and in
the enjoyment of all the pleasures of life to forget my past sufferings.

Here Sindbad paused, and commanded the musicians to play again,
while the feasting continued until evening. When the time came
for the porter to depart, Sindbad gave him a purse containing
one hundred sequins, saying, "Take this, Hindbad, and go home,
but to-morrow come again and you shall hear more of my adventures."

The porter retired quite overcome by so much generosity, and you
may imagine that he was well received at home, where his wife and
children thanked their lucky stars that he had found such a benefactor.

The next day Hindbad, dressed in his best, returned to the
voyager's house, and was received with open arms. As soon
as all the guests had arrived the banquet began as before,
and when they had feasted long and merrily, Sindbad addressed them thus:

"My friends, I beg that you will give me your attention while I
relate the adventures of my second voyage, which you will find
even more astonishing than the first."



Second Voyage


I had resolved, as you know, on my return from my first voyage,
to spend the rest of my days quietly in Bagdad, but very soon I grew
tired of such an idle life and longed once more to find myself upon
the sea.

I procured, therefore, such goods as were suitable for the places I
intended to visit, and embarked for the second time in a good ship
with other merchants whom I knew to be honourable men. We went from
island to island, often making excellent bargains, until one day we
landed at a spot which, though covered with fruit trees and abounding
in springs of excellent water, appeared to possess neither houses
nor people. While my companions wandered here and there gathering
flowers and fruit I sat down in a shady place, and, having heartily
enjoyed the provisions and the wine I had brought with me, I
fell asleep, lulled by the murmur of a clear brook which flowed close by.

How long I slept I know not, but when I opened my eyes and started
to my feet I perceived with horror that I was alone and that
the ship was gone. I rushed to and fro like one distracted,
uttering cries of despair, and when from the shore I saw the vessel
under full sail just disappearing upon the horizon, I wished
bitterly enough that I had been content to stay at home in safety.
But since wishes could do me no good, I presently took courage
and looked about me for a means of escape. When I had climbed
a tall tree I first of all directed my anxious glances towards
the sea; but, finding nothing hopeful there, I turned landward,
and my curiosity was excited by a huge dazzling white object,
so far off that I could not make out what it might be.

Descending from the tree I hastily collected what remained of my
provisions and set off as fast as I could go towards it. As I drew
near it seemed to me to be a white ball of immense size and height,
and when I could touch it, I found it marvellously smooth and soft.
As it was impossible to climb it--for it presented no foot-hold--
I walked round about it seeking some opening, but there was none.
I counted, however, that it was at least fifty paces round.
By this time the sun was near setting, but quite suddenly it
fell dark, something like a huge black cloud came swiftly over me,
and I saw with amazement that it was a bird of extraordinary size
which was hovering near. Then I remembered that I had often
heard the sailors speak of a wonderful bird called a roc, and it
occurred to me that the white object which had so puzzled me must be
its egg.

Sure enough the bird settled slowly down upon it, covering it
with its wings to keep it warm, and I cowered close beside the egg
in such a position that one of the bird's feet, which was as large
as the trunk of a tree, was just in front of me. Taking off my turban
I bound myself securely to it with the linen in the hope that the roc,
when it took flight next morning, would bear me away with it from
the desolate island. And this was precisely what did happen.
As soon as the dawn appeared the bird rose into the air carrying
me up and up till I could no longer see the earth, and then
suddenly it descended so swiftly that I almost lost consciousness.
When I became aware that the roc had settled and that I was once
again upon solid ground, I hastily unbound my turban from its foot
and freed myself, and that not a moment too soon; for the bird,
pouncing upon a huge snake, killed it with a few blows from its
powerful beak, and seizing it up rose into the air once more and
soon disappeared from my view. When I had looked about me I began
to doubt if I had gained anything by quitting the desolate island.

The valley in which I found myself was deep and narrow, and surrounded
by mountains which towered into the clouds, and were so steep
and rocky that there was no way of climbing up their sides.
As I wandered about, seeking anxiously for some means of escaping
from this trap, I observed that the ground was strewed with diamonds,
some of them of an astonishing size. This sight gave me great pleasure,
but my delight was speedily damped when I saw also numbers of horrible
snakes so long and so large that the smallest of them could have
swallowed an elephant with ease. Fortunately for me they seemed
to hide in caverns of the rocks by day, and only came out by night,
probably because of their enemy the roc.

All day long I wandered up and down the valley, and when it grew dusk
I crept into a little cave, and having blocked up the entrance to it
with a stone, I ate part of my little store of food and lay down
to sleep, but all through the night the serpents crawled to and fro,
hissing horribly, so that I could scarcely close my eyes for terror.
I was thankful when the morning light appeared, and when I judged
by the silence that the serpents had retreated to their dens I came
tremblingly out of my cave and wandered up and down the valley
once more, kicking the diamonds contemptuously out of my path, for I
felt that they were indeed vain things to a man in my situation.
At last, overcome with weariness, I sat down upon a rock, but I had
hardly closed my eyes when I was startled by something which fell
to the ground with a thud close beside me.

It was a huge piece of fresh meat, and as I stared at it several
more pieces rolled over the cliffs in different places. I had
always thought that the stories the sailors told of the famous
valley of diamonds, and of the cunning way which some merchants had
devised for getting at the precious stones, were mere travellers'
tales invented to give pleasure to the hearers, but now I perceived
that they were surely true. These merchants came to the valley
at the time when the eagles, which keep their eyries in the rocks,
had hatched their young. The merchants then threw great lumps
of meat into the valley. These, falling with so much force upon
the diamonds, were sure to take up some of the precious stones
with them, when the eagles pounced upon the meat and carried it off
to their nests to feed their hungry broods. Then the merchants,
scaring away the parent birds with shouts and outcries, would secure
their treasures. Until this moment I had looked upon the valley
as my grave, for I had seen no possibility of getting out of it alive,
but now I took courage and began to devise a means of escape.
I began by picking up all the largest diamonds I could find and storing
them carefully in the leathern wallet which had held my provisions;
this I tied securely to my belt. I then chose the piece of meat
which seemed most suited to my purpose, and with the aid of my turban
bound it firmly to my back; this done I laid down upon my face
and awaited the coming of the eagles. I soon heard the flapping
of their mighty wings above me, and had the satisfaction of feeling
one of them seize upon my piece of meat, and me with it, and rise
slowly towards his nest, into which he presently dropped me.
Luckily for me the merchants were on the watch, and setting up their
usual outcries they rushed to the nest scaring away the eagle.
Their amazement was great when they discovered me, and also
their disappointment, and with one accord they fell to abusing me
for having robbed them of their usual profit. Addressing myself
to the one who seemed most aggrieved, I said: "I am sure, if you knew
all that I have suffered, you would show more kindness towards me,
and as for diamonds, I have enough here of the very best for you
and me and all your company." So saying I showed them to him.
The others all crowded round me, wondering at my adventures
and admiring the device by which I had escaped from the valley,
and when they had led me to their camp and examined my diamonds,
they assured me that in all the years that they had carried on their
trade they had seen no stones to be compared with them for size
and beauty.

I found that each merchant chose a particular nest, and took his
chance of what he might find in it. So I begged the one who owned
the nest to which I had been carried to take as much as he would
of my treasure, but he contented himself with one stone, and that by
no means the largest, assuring me that with such a gem his fortune
was made, and he need toil no more. I stayed with the merchants
several days, and then as they were journeying homewards I gladly
accompanied them. Our way lay across high mountains infested
with frightful serpents, but we had the good luck to escape them
and came at last to the seashore. Thence we sailed to the isle
of Rohat where the camphor trees grow to such a size that a hundred
men could shelter under one of them with ease. The sap flows
from an incision made high up in the tree into a vessel hung there
to receive it, and soon hardens into the substance called camphor,
but the tree itself withers up and dies when it has been so treated.

In this same island we saw the rhinoceros, an animal which is smaller
than the elephant and larger than the buffalo. It has one horn
about a cubit long which is solid, but has a furrow from the base
to the tip. Upon it is traced in white lines the figure of a man.
The rhinoceros fights with the elephant, and transfixing him
with his horn carries him off upon his head, but becoming blinded
with the blood of his enemy, he falls helpless to the ground,
and then comes the roc, and clutches them both up in his talons
and takes them to feed his young. This doubtless astonishes you,
but if you do not believe my tale go to Rohat and see for yourself.
For fear of wearying you I pass over in silence many other wonderful
things which we saw in this island. Before we left I exchanged
one of my diamonds for much goodly merchandise by which I profited
greatly on our homeward way. At last we reached Balsora, whence I
hastened to Bagdad, where my first action was to bestow large sums
of money upon the poor, after which I settled down to enjoy tranquilly
the riches I had gained with so much toil and pain.

Having thus related the adventures of his second voyage, Sindbad again
bestowed a hundred sequins upon Hindbad, inviting him to come again
on the following day and hear how he fared upon his third voyage.
The other guests also departed to their homes, but all returned at
the same hour next day, including the porter, whose former life of hard
work and poverty had already begun to seem to him like a bad dream.
Again after the feast was over did Sindbad claim the attention
of his guests and began the account of his third voyage.



Third Voyage


After a very short time the pleasant easy life I led made me quite
forget the perils of my two voyages. Moreover, as I was still
in the prime of life, it pleased me better to be up and doing.
So once more providing myself with the rarest and choicest
merchandise of Bagdad, I conveyed it to Balsora, and set sail
with other merchants of my acquaintance for distant lands.
We had touched at many ports and made much profit, when one day
upon the open sea we were caught by a terrible wind which blew
us completely out of our reckoning, and lasting for several days
finally drove us into harbour on a strange island.

"I would rather have come to anchor anywhere than here,"
quoth our captain. "This island and all adjoining it are inhabited by
hairy savages, who are certain to attack us, and whatever these dwarfs may
do we dare not resist, since they swarm like locusts, and if one of them
is killed the rest will fall upon us, and speedily make an end of us."

These words caused great consternation among all the ship's company,
and only too soon we were to find out that the captain spoke truly.
There appeared a vast multitude of hideous savages, not more than
two feet high and covered with reddish fur. Throwing themselves
into the waves they surrounded our vessel. Chattering meanwhile
in a language we could not understand, and clutching at ropes
and gangways, they swarmed up the ship's side with such speed and
agility that they almost seemed to fly.

You may imagine the rage and terror that seized us as we watched them,
neither daring to hinder them nor able to speak a word to deter them
from their purpose, whatever it might be. Of this we were not left long
in doubt. Hoisting the sails, and cutting the cable of the anchor,
they sailed our vessel to an island which lay a little further off,
where they drove us ashore; then taking possession of her, they made
off to the place from which they had come, leaving us helpless upon
a shore avoided with horror by all mariners for a reason which you
will soon learn.

Turning away from the sea we wandered miserably inland, finding as we
went various herbs and fruits which we ate, feeling that we might
as well live as long as possible though we had no hope of escape.
Presently we saw in the far distance what seemed to us to be a
splendid palace, towards which we turned our weary steps, but when we
reached it we saw that it was a castle, lofty, and strongly built.
Pushing back the heavy ebony doors we entered the courtyard,
but upon the threshold of the great hall beyond it we paused,
frozen with horror, at the sight which greeted us. On one
side lay a huge pile of bones--human bones, and on the other
numberless spits for roasting! Overcome with despair we sank
trembling to the ground, and lay there without speech or motion.
The sun was setting when a loud noise aroused us, the door of
the hall was violently burst open and a horrible giant entered.
He was as tall as a palm tree, and perfectly black, and had one eye,
which flamed like a burning coal in the middle of his forehead.
His teeth were long and sharp and grinned horribly, while his lower
lip hung down upon his chest, and he had ears like elephant's ears,
which covered his shoulders, and nails like the claws of some
fierce bird.

At this terrible sight our senses left us and we lay like dead men.
When at last we came to ourselves the giant sat examining us attentively
with his fearful eye. Presently when he had looked at us enough he
came towards us, and stretching out his hand took me by the back
of the neck, turning me this way and that, but feeling that I was
mere skin and bone he set me down again and went on to the next,
whom he treated in the same fashion; at last he came to the captain,
and finding him the fattest of us all, he took him up in one hand
and stuck him upon a spit and proceeded to kindle a huge fire
at which he presently roasted him. After the giant had supped he
lay down to sleep, snoring like the loudest thunder, while we lay
shivering with horror the whole night through, and when day broke
he awoke and went out, leaving us in the castle.

When we believed him to be really gone we started up bemoaning our
horrible fate, until the hall echoed with our despairing cries.
Though we were many and our enemy was alone it did not occur to us to
kill him, and indeed we should have found that a hard task, even if we
had thought of it, and no plan could we devise to deliver ourselves.
So at last, submitting to our sad fate, we spent the day in wandering
up and down the island eating such fruits as we could find,
and when night came we returned to the castle, having sought in vain
for any other place of shelter. At sunset the giant returned,
supped upon one of our unhappy comrades, slept and snored till dawn,
and then left us as before. Our condition seemed to us so frightful
that several of my companions thought it would be better to leap
from the cliffs and perish in the waves at once, rather than await
so miserable an end; but I had a plan of escape which I now unfolded
to them, and which they at once agreed to attempt.

"Listen, my brothers," I added. "You know that plenty of driftwood
lies along the shore. Let us make several rafts, and carry them
to a suitable place. If our plot succeeds, we can wait patiently
for the chance of some passing ship which would rescue us from this
fatal island. If it fails, we must quickly take to our rafts;
frail as they are, we have more chance of saving our lives with them
than we have if we remain here."

All agreed with me, and we spent the day in building rafts,
each capable of carrying three persons. At nightfall we returned
to the castle, and very soon in came the giant, and one more of our
number was sacrificed. But the time of our vengeance was at hand!
As soon as he had finished his horrible repast he lay down to sleep
as before, and when we heard him begin to snore I, and nine of the
boldest of my comrades, rose softly, and took each a spit, which we
made red-hot in the fire, and then at a given signal we plunged it
with one accord into the giant's eye, completely blinding him.
Uttering a terrible cry, he sprang to his feet clutching in all
directions to try to seize one of us, but we had all fled different
ways as soon as the deed was done, and thrown ourselves flat upon
the ground in corners where he was not likely to touch us with
his feet.

After a vain search he fumbled about till he found the door, and fled
out of it howling frightfully. As for us, when he was gone we made
haste to leave the fatal castle, and, stationing ourselves beside
our rafts, we waited to see what would happen. Our idea was that if,
when the sun rose, we saw nothing of the giant, and no longer
heard his howls, which still came faintly through the darkness,
growing more and more distant, we should conclude that he was dead,
and that we might safely stay upon the island and need not risk
our lives upon the frail rafts. But alas! morning light showed us
our enemy approaching us, supported on either hand by two giants
nearly as large and fearful as himself, while a crowd of others
followed close upon their heels. Hesitating no longer we clambered
upon our rafts and rowed with all our might out to sea. The giants,
seeing their prey escaping them, seized up huge pieces of rock,
and wading into the water hurled them after us with such good
aim that all the rafts except the one I was upon were swamped,
and their luckless crews drowned, without our being able to do
anything to help them. Indeed I and my two companions had all we
could do to keep our own raft beyond the reach of the giants,
but by dint of hard rowing we at last gained the open sea.
Here we were at the mercy of the winds and waves, which tossed us
to and fro all that day and night, but the next morning we found
ourselves near an island, upon which we gladly landed.

There we found delicious fruits, and having satisfied our hunger we
presently lay down to rest upon the shore. Suddenly we were aroused
by a loud rustling noise, and starting up, saw that it was caused
by an immense snake which was gliding towards us over the sand.
So swiftly it came that it had seized one of my comrades before he had
time to fly, and in spite of his cries and struggles speedily crushed
the life out of him in its mighty coils and proceeded to swallow him.
By this time my other companion and I were running for our lives
to some place where we might hope to be safe from this new horror,
and seeing a tall tree we climbed up into it, having first provided
ourselves with a store of fruit off the surrounding bushes.
When night came I fell asleep, but only to be awakened once more
by the terrible snake, which after hissing horribly round the tree
at last reared itself up against it, and finding my sleeping comrade
who was perched just below me, it swallowed him also, and crawled
away leaving me half dead with terror.

When the sun rose I crept down from the tree with hardly a hope
of escaping the dreadful fate which had over-taken my comrades;
but life is sweet, and I determined to do all I could to save myself.
All day long I toiled with frantic haste and collected quantities
of dry brushwood, reeds and thorns, which I bound with faggots,
and making a circle of them under my tree I piled them firmly one upon
another until I had a kind of tent in which I crouched like a mouse
in a hole when she sees the cat coming. You may imagine what a
fearful night I passed, for the snake returned eager to devour me,
and glided round and round my frail shelter seeking an entrance.
Every moment I feared that it would succeed in pushing aside some
of the faggots, but happily for me they held together, and when it
grew light my enemy retired, baffled and hungry, to his den.
As for me I was more dead than alive! Shaking with fright and half
suffocated by the poisonous breath of the monster, I came out of my
tent and crawled down to the sea, feeling that it would be better to
plunge from the cliffs and end my life at once than pass such another
night of horror. But to my joy and relief I saw a ship sailing by,
and by shouting wildly and waving my turban I managed to attract the
attention of her crew.

A boat was sent to rescue me, and very soon I found myself on board
surrounded by a wondering crowd of sailors and merchants eager
to know by what chance I found myself in that desolate island.
After I had told my story they regaled me with the choicest food
the ship afforded, and the captain, seeing that I was in rags,
generously bestowed upon me one of his own coats. After sailing
about for some time and touching at many ports we came at last to
the island of Salahat, where sandal wood grows in great abundance.
Here we anchored, and as I stood watching the merchants disembarking
their goods and preparing to sell or exchange them, the captain came up
to me and said,

"I have here, brother, some merchandise belonging to a passenger
of mine who is dead. Will you do me the favour to trade with it,
and when I meet with his heirs I shall be able to give them the money,
though it will be only just that you shall have a portion for
your trouble."

I consented gladly, for I did not like standing by idle. Whereupon he
pointed the bales out to me, and sent for the person whose duty it
was to keep a list of the goods that were upon the ship. When this
man came he asked in what name the merchandise was to be registered.

"In the name of Sindbad the Sailor," replied the captain.

At this I was greatly surprised, but looking carefully at him I
recognised him to be the captain of the ship upon which I had made
my second voyage, though he had altered much since that time.
As for him, believing me to be dead it was no wonder that he had not
recognised me.

"So, captain," said I, "the merchant who owned those bales was
called Sindbad?"

"Yes," he replied. "He was so named. He belonged to Bagdad,
and joined my ship at Balsora, but by mischance he was left behind
upon a desert island where we had landed to fill up our water-casks,
and it was not until four hours later that he was missed.
By that time the wind had freshened, and it was impossible to put
back for him."

"You suppose him to have perished then?" said I.

"Alas! yes," he answered.

"Why, captain!" I cried, "look well at me. I am that Sindbad
who fell asleep upon the island and awoke to find himself abandoned!"

The captain stared at me in amazement, but was presently convinced
that I was indeed speaking the truth, and rejoiced greatly at my escape.

"I am glad to have that piece of carelessness off my conscience
at any rate," said he. "Now take your goods, and the profit I
have made for you upon them, and may you prosper in future."

I took them gratefully, and as we went from one island to another I
laid in stores of cloves, cinnamon, and other spices. In one place
I saw a tortoise which was twenty cubits long and as many broad,
also a fish that was like a cow and had skin so thick that it was
used to make shields. Another I saw that was like a camel in shape
and colour. So by degrees we came back to Balsora, and I returned
to Bagdad with so much money that I could not myself count it,
besides treasures without end. I gave largely to the poor,
and bought much land to add to what I already possessed, and thus
ended my third voyage.

When Sindbad had finished his story he gave another hundred sequins
to Hindbad, who then departed with the other guests, but next day
when they had all reassembled, and the banquet was ended, their host
continued his adventures.



Fourth Voyage


Rich and happy as I was after my third voyage, I could not make
up my mind to stay at home altogether. My love of trading,
and the pleasure I took in anything that was new and strange,
made me set my affairs in order, and begin my journey through some
of the Persian provinces, having first sent off stores of goods
to await my coming in the different places I intended to visit.
I took ship at a distant seaport, and for some time all went well,
but at last, being caught in a violent hurricane, our vessel became
a total wreck in spite of all our worthy captain could do to save her,
and many of our company perished in the waves. I, with a few others,
had the good fortune to be washed ashore clinging to pieces of the wreck,
for the storm had driven us near an island, and scrambling up beyond
the reach of the waves we threw ourselves down quite exhausted,
to wait for morning.

At daylight we wandered inland, and soon saw some huts, to which we
directed our steps. As we drew near their black inhabitants swarmed
out in great numbers and surrounded us, and we were led to their houses,
and as it were divided among our captors. I with five others
was taken into a hut, where we were made to sit upon the ground,
and certain herbs were given to us, which the blacks made signs
to us to eat. Observing that they themselves did not touch them,
I was careful only to pretend to taste my portion; but my companions,
being very hungry, rashly ate up all that was set before them,
and very soon I had the horror of seeing them become perfectly mad.
Though they chattered incessantly I could not understand a word
they said, nor did they heed when I spoke to them. The savages
now produced large bowls full of rice prepared with cocoanut oil,
of which my crazy comrades ate eagerly, but I only tasted a few grains,
understanding clearly that the object of our captors was to fatten us
speedily for their own eating, and this was exactly what happened.
My unlucky companions having lost their reason, felt neither
anxiety nor fear, and ate greedily all that was offered them.
So they were soon fat and there was an end of them, but I grew
leaner day by day, for I ate but little, and even that little did me
no good by reason of my fear of what lay before me. However, as I
was so far from being a tempting morsel, I was allowed to wander
about freely, and one day, when all the blacks had gone off upon
some expedition leaving only an old man to guard me, I managed
to escape from him and plunged into the forest, running faster
the more he cried to me to come back, until I had completely
distanced him.

For seven days I hurried on, resting only when the darkness stopped me,
and living chiefly upon cocoanuts, which afforded me both meat
and drink, and on the eighth day I reached the seashore and saw a party
of white men gathering pepper, which grew abundantly all about.
Reassured by the nature of their occupation, I advanced towards them
and they greeted me in Arabic, asking who I was and whence I came.
My delight was great on hearing this familiar speech, and I willingly
satisfied their curiosity, telling them how I had been shipwrecked,
and captured by the blacks. "But these savages devour men!" said they.
"How did you escape?" I repeated to them what I have just told you,
at which they were mightily astonished. I stayed with them until
they had collected as much pepper as they wished, and then they
took me back to their own country and presented me to their king,
by whom I was hospitably received. To him also I had to relate
my adventures, which surprised him much, and when I had finished he
ordered that I should be supplied with food and raiment and treated
with consideration.

The island on which I found myself was full of people, and abounded
in all sorts of desirable things, and a great deal of traffic
went on in the capital, where I soon began to feel at home
and contented. Moreover, the king treated me with special favour,
and in consequence of this everyone, whether at the court or in
the town, sought to make life pleasant to me. One thing I remarked
which I thought very strange; this was that, from the greatest
to the least, all men rode their horses without bridle or stirrups.
I one day presumed to ask his majesty why he did not use them,
to which he replied, "You speak to me of things of which I have never
before heard!" This gave me an idea. I found a clever workman,
and made him cut out under my direction the foundation of a saddle,
which I wadded and covered with choice leather, adorning it
with rich gold embroidery. I then got a lock-smith to make me
a bit and a pair of spurs after a pattern that I drew for him,
and when all these things were completed I presented them to the king
and showed him how to use them. When I had saddled one of his horses
he mounted it and rode about quite delighted with the novelty,
and to show his gratitude he rewarded me with large gifts.
After this I had to make saddles for all the principal officers
of the king's household, and as they all gave me rich presents I
soon became very wealthy and quite an important person in the city.

One day the king sent for me and said, "Sindbad, I am going to ask
a favour of you. Both I and my subjects esteem you, and wish
you to end your days amongst us. Therefore I desire that you
will marry a rich and beautiful lady whom I will find for you,
and think no more of your own country."

As the king's will was law I accepted the charming bride he presented
to me, and lived happily with her. Nevertheless I had every intention
of escaping at the first opportunity, and going back to Bagdad.
Things were thus going prosperously with me when it happened that
the wife of one of my neighbours, with whom I had struck up quite
a friendship, fell ill, and presently died. I went to his house
to offer my consolations, and found him in the depths of woe.

"Heaven preserve you," said I, "and send you a long life!"

"Alas!" he replied, "what is the good of saying that when I have
but an hour left to live!"

"Come, come!" said I, "surely it is not so bad as all that.
I trust that you may be spared to me for many years."

"I hope," answered he, "that your life may be long, but as for me,
all is finished. I have set my house in order, and to-day I shall
be buried with my wife. This has been the law upon our island
from the earliest ages--the living husband goes to the grave
with his dead wife, the living wife with her dead husband.
So did our fathers, and so must we do. The law changes not,
and all must submit to it!"

As he spoke the friends and relations of the unhappy pair began
to assemble. The body, decked in rich robes and sparkling
with jewels, was laid upon an open bier, and the procession started,
taking its way to a high mountain at some distance from the city,
the wretched husband, clothed from head to foot in a black mantle,
following mournfully.

When the place of interment was reached the corpse was lowered,
just as it was, into a deep pit. Then the husband, bidding farewell
to all his friends, stretched himself upon another bier, upon which
were laid seven little loaves of bread and a pitcher of water, and he
also was let down-down-down to the depths of the horrible cavern,
and then a stone was laid over the opening, and the melancholy
company wended its way back to the city.

You may imagine that I was no unmoved spectator of these proceedings;
to all the others it was a thing to which they had been accustomed
from their youth up; but I was so horrified that I could not help
telling the king how it struck me.

"Sire," I said, "I am more astonished than I can express to you
at the strange custom which exists in your dominions of burying
the living with the dead. In all my travels I have never before
met with so cruel and horrible a law."

"What would you have, Sindbad?" he replied. "It is the law
for everybody. I myself should be buried with the Queen if she
were the first to die."

"But, your Majesty," said I, "dare I ask if this law applies
to foreigners also?"

"Why, yes," replied the king smiling, in what I could but consider
a very heartless manner, "they are no exception to the rule if they
have married in the country."

When I heard this I went home much cast down, and from that time
forward my mind was never easy. If only my wife's little finger
ached I fancied she was going to die, and sure enough before very
long she fell really ill and in a few days breathed her last.
My dismay was great, for it seemed to me that to be buried
alive was even a worse fate than to be devoured by cannibals,
nevertheless there was no escape. The body of my wife, arrayed in
her richest robes and decked with all her jewels, was laid upon
the bier. I followed it, and after me came a great procession,
headed by the king and all his nobles, and in this order we reached
the fatal mountain, which was one of a lofty chain bordering the sea.

Here I made one more frantic effort to excite the pity of the king
and those who stood by, hoping to save myself even at this last moment,
but it was of no avail. No one spoke to me, they even appeared
to hasten over their dreadful task, and I speedily found myself
descending into the gloomy pit, with my seven loaves and pitcher
of water beside me. Almost before I reached the bottom the stone
was rolled into its place above my head, and I was left to my fate.
A feeble ray of light shone into the cavern through some chink,
and when I had the courage to look about me I could see that I
was in a vast vault, bestrewn with bones and bodies of the dead.
I even fancied that I heard the expiring sighs of those who,
like myself, had come into this dismal place alive. All in vain
did I shriek aloud with rage and despair, reproaching myself for
the love of gain and adventure which had brought me to such a pass,
but at length, growing calmer, I took up my bread and water,
and wrapping my face in my mantle I groped my way towards the end
of the cavern, where the air was fresher.

Here I lived in darkness and misery until my provisions were exhausted,
but just as I was nearly dead from starvation the rock was rolled away
overhead and I saw that a bier was being lowered into the cavern,
and that the corpse upon it was a man. In a moment my mind was made up,
the woman who followed had nothing to expect but a lingering death;
I should be doing her a service if I shortened her misery.
Therefore when she descended, already insensible from terror,
I was ready armed with a huge bone, one blow from which left her dead,
and I secured the bread and water which gave me a hope of life.
Several times did I have recourse to this desperate expedient,
and I know not how long I had been a prisoner when one day I fancied
that I heard something near me, which breathed loudly. Turning to
the place from which the sound came I dimly saw a shadowy form which
fled at my movement, squeezing itself through a cranny in the wall.
I pursued it as fast as I could, and found myself in a narrow crack
among the rocks, along which I was just able to force my way.
I followed it for what seemed to me many miles, and at last saw
before me a glimmer of light which grew clearer every moment until
I emerged upon the sea shore with a joy which I cannot describe.
When I was sure that I was not dreaming, I realised that it was
doubtless some little animal which had found its way into the cavern
from the sea, and when disturbed had fled, showing me a means of escape
which I could never have discovered for myself. I hastily surveyed
my surroundings, and saw that I was safe from all pursuit from
the town.

The mountains sloped sheer down to the sea, and there was no road
across them. Being assured of this I returned to the cavern,
and amassed a rich treasure of diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and jewels
of all kinds which strewed the ground. These I made up into bales,
and stored them into a safe place upon the beach, and then waited
hopefully for the passing of a ship. I had looked out for two days,
however, before a single sail appeared, so it was with much
delight that I at last saw a vessel not very far from the shore,
and by waving my arms and uttering loud cries succeeded in attracting
the attention of her crew. A boat was sent off to me, and in answer
to the questions of the sailors as to how I came to be in such
a plight, I replied that I had been shipwrecked two days before,
but had managed to scramble ashore with the bales which I pointed
out to them. Luckily for me they believed my story, and without
even looking at the place where they found me, took up my bundles,
and rowed me back to the ship. Once on board, I soon saw that the
captain was too much occupied with the difficulties of navigation
to pay much heed to me, though he generously made me welcome,
and would not even accept the jewels with which I offered to pay
my passage. Our voyage was prosperous, and after visiting many lands,
and collecting in each place great store of goodly merchandise,
I found myself at last in Bagdad once more with unheard of riches
of every description. Again I gave large sums of money to the poor,
and enriched all the mosques in the city, after which I gave myself up
to my friends and relations, with whom I passed my time in feasting
and merriment.

Here Sindbad paused, and all his hearers declared that the adventures
of his fourth voyage had pleased them better than anything they
had heard before. They then took their leave, followed by Hindbad,
who had once more received a hundred sequins, and with the rest had
been bidden to return next day for the story of the fifth voyage.

When the time came all were in their places, and when they had eaten
and drunk of all that was set before them Sindbad began his tale.



Fifth Voyage


Not even all that I had gone through could make me contented with a
quiet life. I soon wearied of its pleasures, and longed for change
and adventure. Therefore I set out once more, but this time in a ship
of my own, which I built and fitted out at the nearest seaport.
I wished to be able to call at whatever port I chose, taking my own time;
but as I did not intend carrying enough goods for a full cargo,
I invited several merchants of different nations to join me.
We set sail with the first favourable wind, and after a long
voyage upon the open seas we landed upon an unknown island which
proved to be uninhabited. We determined, however, to explore it,
but had not gone far when we found a roc's egg, as large as the one
I had seen before and evidently very nearly hatched, for the beak
of the young bird had already pierced the shell. In spite of all I
could say to deter them, the merchants who were with me fell upon it
with their hatchets, breaking the shell, and killing the young roc.
Then lighting a fire upon the ground they hacked morsels from the bird,
and proceeded to roast them while I stood by aghast.

Scarcely had they finished their ill-omened repast, when the air
above us was darkened by two mighty shadows. The captain of my ship,
knowing by experience what this meant, cried out to us that the parent
birds were coming, and urged us to get on board with all speed.
This we did, and the sails were hoisted, but before we had made
any way the rocs reached their despoiled nest and hovered about it,
uttering frightful cries when they discovered the mangled remains
of their young one. For a moment we lost sight of them, and were
flattering ourselves that we had escaped, when they reappeared
and soared into the air directly over our vessel, and we saw
that each held in its claws an immense rock ready to crush us.
There was a moment of breathless suspense, then one bird loosed
its hold and the huge block of stone hurtled through the air,
but thanks to the presence of mind of the helmsman, who turned
our ship violently in another direction, it fell into the sea close
beside us, cleaving it asunder till we could nearly see the bottom.
We had hardly time to draw a breath of relief before the other rock
fell with a mighty crash right in the midst of our luckless vessel,
smashing it into a thousand fragments, and crushing, or hurling into
the sea, passengers and crew. I myself went down with the rest,
but had the good fortune to rise unhurt, and by holding on to a piece
of driftwood with one hand and swimming with the other I kept myself
afloat and was presently washed up by the tide on to an island.
Its shores were steep and rocky, but I scrambled up safely and threw
myself down to rest upon the green turf.

When I had somewhat recovered I began to examine the spot in which I
found myself, and truly it seemed to me that I had reached a garden
of delights. There were trees everywhere, and they were laden
with flowers and fruit, while a crystal stream wandered in and out
under their shadow. When night came I slept sweetly in a cosy nook,
though the remembrance that I was alone in a strange land made me
sometimes start up and look around me in alarm, and then I wished
heartily that I had stayed at home at ease. However, the morning
sunlight restored my courage, and I once more wandered among
the trees, but always with some anxiety as to what I might see next.
I had penetrated some distance into the island when I saw an old
man bent and feeble sitting upon the river bank, and at first I
took him to be some ship-wrecked mariner like myself. Going up
to him I greeted him in a friendly way, but he only nodded his head
at me in reply. I then asked what he did there, and he made signs
to me that he wished to get across the river to gather some fruit,
and seemed to beg me to carry him on my back. Pitying his age
and feebleness, I took him up, and wading across the stream I bent
down that he might more easily reach the bank, and bade him get down.
But instead of allowing himself to be set upon his feet (even now it
makes me laugh to think of it!), this creature who had seemed to me
so decrepit leaped nimbly upon my shoulders, and hooking his legs
round my neck gripped me so tightly that I was well-nigh choked,
and so overcome with terror that I fell insensible to the ground.
When I recovered my enemy was still in his place, though he had released
his hold enough to allow me breathing space, and seeing me revive
he prodded me adroitly first with one foot and then with the other,
until I was forced to get up and stagger about with him under the trees
while he gathered and ate the choicest fruits. This went on all day,
and even at night, when I threw myself down half dead with weariness,
the terrible old man held on tight to my neck, nor did he fail
to greet the first glimmer of morning light by drumming upon me
with his heels, until I perforce awoke and resumed my dreary march
with rage and bitterness in my heart.

It happened one day that I passed a tree under which lay several
dry gourds, and catching one up I amused myself with scooping
out its contents and pressing into it the juice of several
bunches of grapes which hung from every bush. When it was full
I left it propped in the fork of a tree, and a few days later,
carrying the hateful old man that way, I snatched at my gourd as I
passed it and had the satisfaction of a draught of excellent wine
so good and refreshing that I even forgot my detestable burden,
and began to sing and caper.

The old monster was not slow to perceive the effect which my draught
had produced and that I carried him more lightly than usual, so he
stretched out his skinny hand and seizing the gourd first tasted
its contents cautiously, then drained them to the very last drop.
The wine was strong and the gourd capacious, so he also began
to sing after a fashion, and soon I had the delight of feeling
the iron grip of his goblin legs unclasp, and with one vigorous
effort I threw him to the ground, from which he never moved again.
I was so rejoiced to have at last got rid of this uncanny old man
that I ran leaping and bounding down to the sea shore, where, by the
greatest good luck, I met with some mariners who had anchored off
the island to enjoy the delicious fruits, and to renew their supply
of water.

They heard the story of my escape with amazement, saying, "You fell
into the hands of the Old Man of the Sea, and it is a mercy that he
did not strangle you as he has everyone else upon whose shoulders
he has managed to perch himself. This island is well known as
the scene of his evil deeds, and no merchant or sailor who lands
upon it cares to stray far away from his comrades." After we had
talked for a while they took me back with them on board their ship,
where the captain received me kindly, and we soon set sail,
and after several days reached a large and prosperous-looking
town where all the houses were built of stone. Here we anchored,
and one of the merchants, who had been very friendly to me on
the way, took me ashore with him and showed me a lodging set apart
for strange merchants. He then provided me with a large sack,
and pointed out to me a party of others equipped in like manner.

"Go with them," said he, "and do as they do, but beware of losing
sight of them, for if you strayed your life would be in danger."

With that he supplied me with provisions, and bade me farewell,
and I set out with my new companions. I soon learnt that the
object of our expedition was to fill our sacks with cocoanuts,
but when at length I saw the trees and noted their immense height
and the slippery smoothness of their slender trunks, I did not at
all understand how we were to do it. The crowns of the cocoa-palms
were all alive with monkeys, big and little, which skipped from
one to the other with surprising agility, seeming to be curious
about us and disturbed at our appearance, and I was at first
surprised when my companions after collecting stones began to throw
them at the lively creatures, which seemed to me quite harmless.
But very soon I saw the reason of it and joined them heartily,
for the monkeys, annoyed and wishing to pay us back in our own coin,
began to tear the nuts from the trees and cast them at us with angry
and spiteful gestures, so that after very little labour our sacks
were filled with the fruit which we could not otherwise have obtained.

As soon as we had as many as we could carry we went back to the town,
where my friend bought my share and advised me to continue the same
occupation until I had earned money enough to carry me to my own country.
This I did, and before long had amassed a considerable sum.
Just then I heard that there was a trading ship ready to sail,
and taking leave of my friend I went on board, carrying with me
a goodly store of cocoanuts; and we sailed first to the islands
where pepper grows, then to Comari where the best aloes wood
is found, and where men drink no wine by an unalterable law.
Here I exchanged my nuts for pepper and good aloes wood, and went
a-fishing for pearls with some of the other merchants, and my divers
were so lucky that very soon I had an immense number, and those
very large and perfect. With all these treasures I came joyfully
back to Bagdad, where I disposed of them for large sums of money,
of which I did not fail as before to give the tenth part to the poor,
and after that I rested from my labours and comforted myself with
all the pleasures that my riches could give me.

Having thus ended his story, Sindbad ordered that one hundred
sequins should be given to Hindbad, and the guests then withdrew;
but after the next day's feast he began the account of his sixth
voyage as follows.



Sixth Voyage


It must be a marvel to you how, after having five times met with
shipwreck and unheard of perils, I could again tempt fortune and
risk fresh trouble. I am even surprised myself when I look back,
but evidently it was my fate to rove, and after a year of repose
I prepared to make a sixth voyage, regardless of the entreaties
of my friends and relations, who did all they could to keep me
at home. Instead of going by the Persian Gulf, I travelled
a considerable way overland, and finally embarked from a distant
Indian port with a captain who meant to make a long voyage.
And truly he did so, for we fell in with stormy weather which drove
us completely out of our course, so that for many days neither
captain nor pilot knew where we were, nor where we were going.
When they did at last discover our position we had small ground
for rejoicing, for the captain, casting his turban upon the deck
and tearing his beard, declared that we were in the most dangerous
spot upon the whole wide sea, and had been caught by a current which
was at that minute sweeping us to destruction. It was too true!
In spite of all the sailors could do we were driven with frightful
rapidity towards the foot of a mountain, which rose sheer out
of the sea, and our vessel was dashed to pieces upon the rocks at
its base, not, however, until we had managed to scramble on shore,
carrying with us the most precious of our possessions. When we
had done this the captain said to us:

"Now we are here we may as well begin to dig our graves at once,
since from this fatal spot no shipwrecked mariner has ever returned."

This speech discouraged us much, and we began to lament over our
sad fate.

The mountain formed the seaward boundary of a large island,
and the narrow strip of rocky shore upon which we stood was strewn
with the wreckage of a thousand gallant ships, while the bones
of the luckless mariners shone white in the sunshine, and we
shuddered to think how soon our own would be added to the heap.
All around, too, lay vast quantities of the costliest merchandise,
and treasures were heaped in every cranny of the rocks, but all
these things only added to the desolation of the scene. It struck
me as a very strange thing that a river of clear fresh water,
which gushed out from the mountain not far from where we stood,
instead of flowing into the sea as rivers generally do,
turned off sharply, and flowed out of sight under a natural archway
of rock, and when I went to examine it more closely I found that
inside the cave the walls were thick with diamonds, and rubies,
and masses of crystal, and the floor was strewn with ambergris.
Here, then, upon this desolate shore we abandoned ourselves to
our fate, for there was no possibility of scaling the mountain,
and if a ship had appeared it could only have shared our doom.
The first thing our captain did was to divide equally amongst us
all the food we possessed, and then the length of each man's life
depended on the time he could make his portion last. I myself could
live upon very little.

Nevertheless, by the time I had buried the last of my companions
my stock of provisions was so small that I hardly thought I should
live long enough to dig my own grave, which I set about doing,
while I regretted bitterly the roving disposition which was always
bringing me into such straits, and thought longingly of all the comfort
and luxury that I had left. But luckily for me the fancy took me
to stand once more beside the river where it plunged out of sight
in the depths of the cavern, and as I did so an idea struck me.
This river which hid itself underground doubtless emerged again
at some distant spot. Why should I not build a raft and trust
myself to its swiftly flowing waters? If I perished before I
could reach the light of day once more I should be no worse off
than I was now, for death stared me in the face, while there was
always the possibility that, as I was born under a lucky star,
I might find myself safe and sound in some desirable land.
I decided at any rate to risk it, and speedily built myself a stout
raft of drift-wood with strong cords, of which enough and to spare
lay strewn upon the beach. I then made up many packages of rubies,
emeralds, rock crystal, ambergris, and precious stuffs, and bound
them upon my raft, being careful to preserve the balance, and then
I seated myself upon it, having two small oars that I had fashioned
laid ready to my hand, and loosed the cord which held it to the bank.
Once out in the current my raft flew swiftly under the gloomy archway,
and I found myself in total darkness, carried smoothly forward
by the rapid river. On I went as it seemed to me for many nights
and days. Once the channel became so small that I had a narrow
escape of being crushed against the rocky roof, and after that I
took the precaution of lying flat upon my precious bales.
Though I only ate what was absolutely necessary to keep myself alive,
the inevitable moment came when, after swallowing my last morsel
of food, I began to wonder if I must after all die of hunger.
Then, worn out with anxiety and fatigue, I fell into a deep sleep,
and when I again opened my eyes I was once more in the light of day;
a beautiful country lay before me, and my raft, which was tied
to the river bank, was surrounded by friendly looking black men.
I rose and saluted them, and they spoke to me in return, but I could
not understand a word of their language. Feeling perfectly bewildered
by my sudden return to life and light, I murmured to myself in Arabic,
"Close thine eyes, and while thou sleepest Heaven will change thy
fortune from evil to good."

One of the natives, who understood this tongue, then came forward saying:

"My brother, be not surprised to see us; this is our land, and as we
came to get water from the river we noticed your raft floating
down it, and one of us swam out and brought you to the shore.
We have waited for your awakening; tell us now whence you come
and where you were going by that dangerous way?"

I replied that nothing would please me better than to tell them,
but that I was starving, and would fain eat something first.
I was soon supplied with all I needed, and having satisfied
my hunger I told them faithfully all that had befallen me.
They were lost in wonder at my tale when it was interpreted to them,
and said that adventures so surprising must be related to their king
only by the man to whom they had happened. So, procuring a horse,
they mounted me upon it, and we set out, followed by several
strong men carrying my raft just as it was upon their shoulders.
In this order we marched into the city of Serendib, where the natives
presented me to their king, whom I saluted in the Indian fashion,
prostrating myself at his feet and kissing the ground; but the
monarch bade me rise and sit beside him, asking first what was
my name.

"I am Sindbad," I replied, "whom men call `the Sailor,' for I
have voyaged much upon many seas."

"And how come you here?" asked the king.

I told my story, concealing nothing, and his surprise and delight
were so great that he ordered my adventures to be written in letters
of gold and laid up in the archives of his kingdom.

Presently my raft was brought in and the bales opened in his presence,
and the king declared that in all his treasury there were no such
rubies and emeralds as those which lay in great heaps before him.
Seeing that he looked at them with interest, I ventured to say that I
myself and all that I had were at his disposal, but he answered
me smiling:

"Nay, Sindbad. Heaven forbid that I should covet your riches;
I will rather add to them, for I desire that you shall not leave
my kingdom without some tokens of my good will." He then commanded
his officers to provide me with a suitable lodging at his expense,
and sent slaves to wait upon me and carry my raft and my bales to my
new dwelling place. You may imagine that I praised his generosity
and gave him grateful thanks, nor did I fail to present myself
daily in his audience chamber, and for the rest of my time I amused
myself in seeing all that was most worthy of attention in the city.
The island of Serendib being situated on the equinoctial line,
the days and nights there are of equal length. The chief city
is placed at the end of a beautiful valley, formed by the highest
mountain in the world, which is in the middle of the island.
I had the curiosity to ascend to its very summit, for this was the
place to which Adam was banished out of Paradise. Here are found
rubies and many precious things, and rare plants grow abundantly,
with cedar trees and cocoa palms. On the seashore and at the mouths
of the rivers the divers seek for pearls, and in some valleys
diamonds are plentiful. After many days I petitioned the king that I
might return to my own country, to which he graciously consented.
Moreover, he loaded me with rich gifts, and when I went to take
leave of him he entrusted me with a royal present and a letter to
the Commander of the Faithful, our sovereign lord, saying, "I pray
you give these to the Caliph Haroun al Raschid, and assure him of
my friendship."

I accepted the charge respectfully, and soon embarked upon
the vessel which the king himself had chosen for me. The king's
letter was written in blue characters upon a rare and precious
skin of yellowish colour, and these were the words of it:
"The King of the Indies, before whom walk a thousand elephants,
who lives in a palace, of which the roof blazes with a hundred
thousand rubies, and whose treasure house contains twenty thousand
diamond crowns, to the Caliph Haroun al Raschid sends greeting.
Though the offering we present to you is unworthy of your notice,
we pray you to accept it as a mark of the esteem and friendship
which we cherish for you, and of which we gladly send you this token,
and we ask of you a like regard if you deem us worthy of it.
Adieu, brother."

The present consisted of a vase carved from a single ruby,
six inches high and as thick as my finger; this was filled with
the choicest pearls, large, and of perfect shape and lustre;
secondly, a huge snake skin, with scales as large as a sequin,
which would preserve from sickness those who slept upon it.
Then quantities of aloes wood, camphor, and pistachio-nuts; and lastly,
a beautiful slave girl, whose robes glittered with precious stones.

After a long and prosperous voyage we landed at Balsora, and I made
haste to reach Bagdad, and taking the king's letter I presented
myself at the palace gate, followed by the beautiful slave,
and various members of my own family, bearing the treasure.

As soon as I had declared my errand I was conducted into the
presence of the Caliph, to whom, after I had made my obeisance,
I gave the letter and the king's gift, and when he had examined
them he demanded of me whether the Prince of Serendib was really
as rich and powerful as he claimed to be.

"Commander of the Faithful," I replied, again bowing humbly before him,
"I can assure your Majesty that he has in no way exaggerated his wealth
and grandeur. Nothing can equal the magnificence of his palace.
When he goes abroad his throne is prepared upon the back of an elephant,
and on either side of him ride his ministers, his favourites,
and courtiers. On his elephant's neck sits an officer, his golden lance
in his hand, and behind him stands another bearing a pillar of gold,
at the top of which is an emerald as long as my hand. A thousand
men in cloth of gold, mounted upon richly caparisoned elephants,
go before him, and as the procession moves onward the officer
who guides his elephant cries aloud, `Behold the mighty monarch,
the powerful and valiant Sultan of the Indies, whose palace
is covered with a hundred thousand rubies, who possesses twenty
thousand diamond crowns. Behold a monarch greater than Solomon
and Mihrage in all their glory!'"

"Then the one who stands behind the throne answers: 'This king,
so great and powerful, must die, must die, must die!'"

"And the first takes up the chant again, `All praise to Him
who lives for evermore.'"

"Further, my lord, in Serendib no judge is needed, for to the king
himself his people come for justice."

The Caliph was well satisfied with my report.

"From the king's letter," said he, "I judged that he was a wise man.
It seems that he is worthy of his people, and his people of him."

So saying he dismissed me with rich presents, and I returned
in peace to my own house.

When Sindbad had done speaking his guests withdrew, Hindbad having
first received a hundred sequins, but all returned next day to hear
the story of the seventh voyage, Sindbad thus began.



Seventh and Last Voyage


After my sixth voyage I was quite determined that I would go
to sea no more. I was now of an age to appreciate a quiet life,
and I had run risks enough. I only wished to end my days in peace.
One day, however, when I was entertaining a number of my friends,
I was told that an officer of the Caliph wished to speak to me,
and when he was admitted he bade me follow him into the presence of
Haroun al Raschid, which I accordingly did. After I had saluted him,
the Caliph said:

"I have sent for you, Sindbad, because I need your services.
I have chosen you to bear a letter and a gift to the King of Serendib
in return for his message of friendship."

The Caliph's commandment fell upon me like a thunderbolt.

"Commander of the Faithful," I answered, "I am ready to do all that
your Majesty commands, but I humbly pray you to remember that I am
utterly disheartened by the unheard of sufferings I have undergone.
Indeed, I have made a vow never again to leave Bagdad."

With this I gave him a long account of some of my strangest adventures,
to which he listened patiently.

"I admit," said he, "that you have indeed had some extraordinary
experiences, but I do not see why they should hinder you from doing
as I wish. You have only to go straight to Serendib and give
my message, then you are free to come back and do as you will.
But go you must; my honour and dignity demand it."

Seeing that there was no help for it, I declared myself willing
to obey; and the Caliph, delighted at having got his own way,
gave me a thousand sequins for the expenses of the voyage.
I was soon ready to start, and taking the letter and the present I
embarked at Balsora, and sailed quickly and safely to Serendib.
Here, when I had disclosed my errand, I was well received,
and brought into the presence of the king, who greeted me with joy.

"Welcome, Sindbad," he cried. "I have thought of you often,
and rejoice to see you once more."

After thanking him for the honour that he did me, I displayed the
Caliph's gifts. First a bed with complete hangings all cloth of gold,
which cost a thousand sequins, and another like to it of crimson stuff.
Fifty robes of rich embroidery, a hundred of the finest white
linen from Cairo, Suez, Cufa, and Alexandria. Then more beds
of different fashion, and an agate vase carved with the figure
of a man aiming an arrow at a lion, and finally a costly table,
which had once belonged to King Solomon. The King of Serendib
received with satisfaction the assurance of the Caliph's friendliness
toward him, and now my task being accomplished I was anxious to depart,
but it was some time before the king would think of letting me go.
At last, however, he dismissed me with many presents, and I lost
no time in going on board a ship, which sailed at once, and for four
days all went well. On the fifth day we had the misfortune to fall
in with pirates, who seized our vessel, killing all who resisted,
and making prisoners of those who were prudent enough to submit at once,
of whom I was one. When they had despoiled us of all we possessed,
they forced us to put on vile raiment, and sailing to a distant island
there sold us for slaves. I fell into the hands of a rich merchant,
who took me home with him, and clothed and fed me well, and after
some days sent for me and questioned me as to what I could do.

I answered that I was a rich merchant who had been captured by pirates,
and therefore I knew no trade.

"Tell me," said he, "can you shoot with a bow?"

I replied that this had been one of the pastimes of my youth,
and that doubtless with practice my skill would come back to me.

Upon this he provided me with a bow and arrows, and mounting me with
him upon his own elephant took the way to a vast forest which lay far
from the town. When we had reached the wildest part of it we stopped,
and my master said to me: "This forest swarms with elephants.
Hide yourself in this great tree, and shoot at all that pass you.
When you have succeeded in killing one come and tell me."

So saying he gave me a supply of food, and returned to the town,
and I perched myself high up in the tree and kept watch. That night
I saw nothing, but just after sunrise the next morning a large
herd of elephants came crashing and trampling by. I lost no time
in letting fly several arrows, and at last one of the great animals
fell to the ground dead, and the others retreated, leaving me free
to come down from my hiding place and run back to tell my master
of my success, for which I was praised and regaled with good things.
Then we went back to the forest together and dug a mighty trench
in which we buried the elephant I had killed, in order that when it
became a skeleton my master might return and secure its tusks.

For two months I hunted thus, and no day passed without my securing,
an elephant. Of course I did not always station myself in the
same tree, but sometimes in one place, sometimes in another.
One morning as I watched the coming of the elephants I was surprised
to see that, instead of passing the tree I was in, as they usually did,
they paused, and completely surrounded it, trumpeting horribly,
and shaking the very ground with their heavy tread, and when I
saw that their eyes were fixed upon me I was terrified, and my
arrows dropped from my trembling hand. I had indeed good reason
for my terror when, an instant later, the largest of the animals
wound his trunk round the stem of my tree, and with one mighty
effort tore it up by the roots, bringing me to the ground entangled
in its branches. I thought now that my last hour was surely come;
but the huge creature, picking me up gently enough, set me upon
its back, where I clung more dead than alive, and followed
by the whole herd turned and crashed off into the dense forest.
It seemed to me a long time before I was once more set upon my feet
by the elephant, and I stood as if in a dream watching the herd,
which turned and trampled off in another direction, and were soon
hidden in the dense underwood. Then, recovering myself, I looked
about me, and found that I was standing upon the side of a great hill,
strewn as far as I could see on either hand with bones and tusks
of elephants. "This then must be the elephants' burying place,"
I said to myself, "and they must have brought me here that I might
cease to persecute them, seeing that I want nothing but their tusks,
and here lie more than I could carry away in a lifetime."

Whereupon I turned and made for the city as fast as I could go,
not seeing a single elephant by the way, which convinced me that
they had retired deeper into the forest to leave the way open
to the Ivory Hill, and I did not know how sufficiently to admire
their sagacity. After a day and a night I reached my master's house,
and was received by him with joyful surprise.

"Ah! poor Sindbad," he cried, "I was wondering what could have become
of you. When I went to the forest I found the tree newly uprooted,
and the arrows lying beside it, and I feared I should never see
you again. Pray tell me how you escaped death."

I soon satisfied his curiosity, and the next day we went together
to the Ivory Hill, and he was overjoyed to find that I had told him
nothing but the truth. When we had loaded our elephant with as
many tusks as it could carry and were on our way back to the city,
he said:

"My brother--since I can no longer treat as a slave one who has
enriched me thus--take your liberty and may Heaven prosper you.
I will no longer conceal from you that these wild elephants have
killed numbers of our slaves every year. No matter what good advice
we gave them, they were caught sooner or later. You alone have
escaped the wiles of these animals, therefore you must be under the
special protection of Heaven. Now through you the whole town will
be enriched without further loss of life, therefore you shall not
only receive your liberty, but I will also bestow a fortune upon you."

To which I replied, "Master, I thank you, and wish you all prosperity.
For myself I only ask liberty to return to my own country."

"It is well," he answered, "the monsoon will soon bring the ivory
ships hither, then I will send you on your way with somewhat to pay
your passage."

So I stayed with him till the time of the monsoon, and every
day we added to our store of ivory till all his ware-houses
were overflowing with it. By this time the other merchants
knew the secret, but there was enough and to spare for all.
When the ships at last arrived my master himself chose the one
in which I was to sail, and put on board for me a great store of
choice provisions, also ivory in abundance, and all the costliest
curiosities of the country, for which I could not thank him enough,
and so we parted. I left the ship at the first port we came to,
not feeling at ease upon the sea after all that had happened to me
by reason of it, and having disposed of my ivory for much gold,
and bought many rare and costly presents, I loaded my pack animals,
and joined a caravan of merchants. Our journey was long and tedious,
but I bore it patiently, reflecting that at least I had not to
fear tempests, nor pirates, nor serpents, nor any of the other perils
from which I had suffered before, and at length we reached Bagdad.
My first care was to present myself before the Caliph, and give him
an account of my embassy. He assured me that my long absence had
disquieted him much, but he had nevertheless hoped for the best.
As to my adventure among the elephants he heard it with amazement,
declaring that he could not have believed it had not my truthfulness
been well known to him.

By his orders this story and the others I had told him were written
by his scribes in letters of gold, and laid up among his treasures.
I took my leave of him, well satisfied with the honours and rewards he
bestowed upon me; and since that time I have rested from my labours,
and given myself up wholly to my family and my friends.

Thus Sindbad ended the story of his seventh and last voyage,
and turning to Hindbad he added:

"Well, my friend, and what do you think now? Have you ever heard
of anyone who has suffered more, or had more narrow escapes than
I have? Is it not just that I should now enjoy a life of ease
and tranquillity?"

Hindbad drew near, and kissing his hand respectfully, replied, "Sir, you
have indeed known fearful perils; my troubles have been nothing compared
to yours. Moreover, the generous use you make of your wealth proves
that you deserve it. May you live long and happily in the enjoyment
in it."

Sindbad then gave him a hundred sequins, and hence-forward counted
him among his friends; also he caused him to give up his profession
as a porter, and to eat daily at his table that he might all his
life remember Sindbad the Sailor.



The Little Hunchback


In the kingdom of Kashgar, which is, as everybody knows,
situated on the frontiers of Great Tartary, there lived long ago
a tailor and his wife who loved each other very much. One day,
when the tailor was hard at work, a little hunchback came and sat at
the entrance of the shop, and began to sing and play his tambourine.
The tailor was amused with the antics of the fellow, and thought
he would take him home to divert his wife. The hunchback having
agreed to his proposal, the tailor closed his shop and they set
off together.

When they reached the house they found the table ready laid for supper,
and in a very few minutes all three were sitting before a beautiful
fish which the tailor's wife had cooked with her own hands.
But unluckily, the hunchback happened to swallow a large bone,
and, in spite of all the tailor and his wife could do to help him,
died of suffocation in an instant. Besides being very sorry for
the poor man, the tailor and his wife were very much frightened on
their own account, for if the police came to hear of it the worthy
couple ran the risk of being thrown into prison for wilful murder.
In order to prevent this dreadful calamity they both set about
inventing some plan which would throw suspicion on some one else,
and at last they made up their minds that they could do no better than
select a Jewish doctor who lived close by as the author of the crime.
So the tailor picked up the hunchback by his head while his wife
took his feet and carried him to the doctor's house. Then they
knocked at the door, which opened straight on to a steep staircase.
A servant soon appeared, feeling her way down the dark staircase
and inquired what they wanted.

"Tell your master," said the tailor, "that we have brought a very sick
man for him to cure; and," he added, holding out some money, "give him
this in advance, so that he may not feel he is wasting his time."
The servant remounted the stairs to give the message to the doctor,
and the moment she was out of sight the tailor and his wife carried
the body swiftly after her, propped it up at the top of the staircase,
and ran home as fast as their legs could carry them.

Now the doctor was so delighted at the news of a patient (for he
was young, and had not many of them), that he was transported
with joy.

"Get a light," he called to the servant, "and follow me as fast as
you can!" and rushing out of his room he ran towards the staircase.
There he nearly fell over the body of the hunchback, and without knowing
what it was gave it such a kick that it rolled right to the bottom,
and very nearly dragged the doctor after it. "A light! a light!"
he cried again, and when it was brought and he saw what he had done
he was almost beside himself with terror.

"Holy Moses!" he exclaimed, "why did I not wait for the light?
I have killed the sick man whom they brought me; and if the sacred
Ass of Esdras does not come to my aid I am lost! It will not be long
before I am led to jail as a murderer."

Agitated though he was, and with reason, the doctor did not forget
to shut the house door, lest some passers-by might chance to see
what had happened. He then took up the corpse and carried it
into his wife's room, nearly driving her crazy with fright.

"It is all over with us!" she wailed, "if we cannot find some
means of getting the body out of the house. Once let the sun
rise and we can hide it no longer! How were you driven to commit
such a terrible crime?"

"Never mind that," returned the doctor, "the thing is to find a way
out of it."

For a long while the doctor and his wife continued to turn over
in their minds a way of escape, but could not find any that seemed
good enough. At last the doctor gave it up altogether and resigned
himself to bear the penalty of his misfortune.

But his wife, who had twice his brains, suddenly exclaimed, "I have
thought of something! Let us carry the body on the roof of the house
and lower it down the chimney of our neighbour the Mussulman."
Now this Mussulman was employed by the Sultan, and furnished
his table with oil and butter. Part of his house was occupied
by a great storeroom, where rats and mice held high revel.

The doctor jumped at his wife's plan, and they took up the hunchback,
and passing cords under his armpits they let him down into the
purveyor's bed-room so gently that he really seemed to be leaning
against the wall. When they felt he was touching the ground they
drew up the cords and left him.

Scarcely had they got back to their own house when the purveyor
entered his room. He had spent the evening at a wedding feast,
and had a lantern in his hand. In the dim light it cast he was
astonished to see a man standing in his chimney, but being naturally
courageous he seized a stick and made straight for the supposed thief.
"Ah!" he cried, "so it is you, and not the rats and mice, who steal
my butter. I'll take care that you don't want to come back!"

So saying he struck him several hard blows. The corpse fell on
the floor, but the man only redoubled his blows, till at length it
occurred to him it was odd that the thief should lie so still and make
no resistance. Then, finding he was quite dead, a cold fear took
possession of him. "Wretch that I am," said he, "I have murdered
a man. Ah, my revenge has gone too far. Without the help of Allah
I am undone! Cursed be the goods which have led me to my ruin."
And already he felt the rope round his neck.

But when he had got over the first shock he began to think of some
way out of the difficulty, and seizing the hunchback in his arms he
carried him out into the street, and leaning him against the wall
of a shop he stole back to his own house, without once looking
behind him.

A few minutes before the sun rose, a rich Christian merchant,
who supplied the palace with all sorts of necessaries, left his house,
after a night of feasting, to go to the bath. Though he was
very drunk, he was yet sober enough to know that the dawn was at hand,
and that all good Mussulmen would shortly be going to prayer.
So he hastened his steps lest he should meet some one on his way
to the mosque, who, seeing his condition, would send him to prison
as a drunkard. In his haste he jostled against the hunchback,
who fell heavily upon him, and the merchant, thinking he was being
attacked by a thief, knocked him down with one blow of his fist.
He then called loudly for help, beating the fallen man all
the while.

The chief policeman of the quarter came running up, and found
a Christian ill-treating a Mussulman. "What are you doing?"
he asked indignantly.

"He tried to rob me," replied the merchant, "and very nearly
choked me."

"Well, you have had your revenge," said the man, catching hold
of his arm. "Come, be off with you!"

As he spoke he held out his hand to the hunchback to help him up,
but the hunchback never moved. "Oho!" he went on, looking closer,
"so this is the way a Christian has the impudence to treat
a Mussulman!" and seizing the merchant in a firm grasp he took
him to the inspector of police, who threw him into prison till
the judge should be out of bed and ready to attend to his case.
All this brought the merchant to his senses, but the more he thought
of it the less he could understand how the hunchback could have died
merely from the blows he had received.

The merchant was still pondering on this subject when he was
summoned before the chief of police and questioned about his crime,
which he could not deny. As the hunchback was one of the Sultan's
private jesters, the chief of police resolved to defer sentence
of death until he had consulted his master. He went to the palace
to demand an audience, and told his story to the Sultan, who only answered,

"There is no pardon for a Christian who kills a Mussulman.
Do your duty."

So the chief of police ordered a gallows to be erected, and sent
criers to proclaim in every street in the city that a Christian
was to be hanged that day for having killed a Mussulman.

When all was ready the merchant was brought from prison and led
to the foot of the gallows. The executioner knotted the cord firmly
round the unfortunate man's neck and was just about to swing him
into the air, when the Sultan's purveyor dashed through the crowd,
and cried, panting, to the hangman,

"Stop, stop, don't be in such a hurry. It was not he who did
the murder, it was I."

The chief of police, who was present to see that everything was
in order, put several questions to the purveyor, who told him the
whole story of the death of the hunchback, and how he had carried
the body to the place where it had been found by the Christian merchant.

"You are going," he said to the chief of police, "to kill an
innocent man, for it is impossible that he should have murdered
a creature who was dead already. It is bad enough for me
to have slain a Mussulman without having it on my conscience
that a Christian who is guiltless should suffer through my fault."

Now the purveyor's speech had been made in a loud voice, and was
heard by all the crowd, and even if he had wished it, the chief
of police could not have escaped setting the merchant free.

"Loose the cords from the Christian's neck," he commanded,
turning to the executioner, "and hang this man in his place,
seeing that by his own confession he is the murderer."

The hangman did as he was bid, and was tying the cord firmly,
when he was stopped by the voice of the Jewish doctor beseeching
him to pause, for he had something very important to say.
When he had fought his way through the crowd and reached the chief
of police,

"Worshipful sir," he began, "this Mussulman whom you desire
to hang is unworthy of death; I alone am guilty. Last night
a man and a woman who were strangers to me knocked at my door,
bringing with them a patient for me to cure. The servant opened it,
but having no light was hardly able to make out their faces,
though she readily agreed to wake me and to hand me the fee for
my services. While she was telling me her story they seem to have
carried the sick man to the top of the staircase and then left
him there. I jumped up in a hurry without waiting for a lantern,
and in the darkness I fell against something, which tumbled headlong
down the stairs and never stopped till it reached the bottom.
When I examined the body I found it was quite dead, and the corpse
was that of a hunchback Mussulman. Terrified at what we had done,
my wife and I took the body on the roof and let it down the chimney
of our neighbour the purveyor, whom you were just about to hang.
The purveyor, finding him in his room, naturally thought he was a thief,
and struck him such a blow that the man fell down and lay motionless
on the floor. Stooping to examine him, and finding him stone dead,
the purveyor supposed that the man had died from the blow he
had received; but of course this was a mistake, as you will see from
my account, and I only am the murderer; and although I am innocent
of any wish to commit a crime, I must suffer for it all the same,
or else have the blood of two Musselmans on my conscience.
Therefore send away this man, I pray you, and let me take his place,
as it is I who am guilty."

On hearing the declaration of the Jewish doctor, the chief of police
commanded that he should be led to the gallows, and the Sultan's
purveyor go free. The cord was placed round the Jew's neck,
and his feet had already ceased to touch the ground when the voice
of the tailor was heard beseeching the executioner to pause one
moment and to listen to what he had to say.

"Oh, my lord," he cried, turning to the chief of police,
"how nearly have you caused the death of three innocent people!
But if you will only have the patience to listen to my tale,
you shall know who is the real culprit. If some one has to suffer,
it must be me! Yesterday, at dusk, I was working in my shop with a
light heart when the little hunchback, who was more than half drunk,
came and sat in the doorway. He sang me several songs, and then
I invited him to finish the evening at my house. He accepted
my invitation, and we went away together. At supper I helped him
to a slice of fish, but in eating it a bone stuck in his throat,
and in spite of all we could do he died in a few minutes. We felt deeply
sorry for his death, but fearing lest we should be held responsible,
we carried the corpse to the house of the Jewish doctor. I knocked,
and desired the servant to beg her master to come down as fast
as possible and see a sick man whom we had brought for him to cure;
and in order to hasten his movements I placed a piece of money
in her hand as the doctor's fee. Directly she had disappeared I
dragged the body to the top of the stairs, and then hurried away
with my wife back to our house. In descending the stairs the doctor
accidentally knocked over the corpse, and finding him dead believed
that he himself was the murderer. But now you know the truth set
him free, and let me die in his stead."

The chief of police and the crowd of spectators were lost in astonishment
at the strange events to which the death of the hunchback had given rise.

"Loosen the Jewish doctor," said he to the hangman, "and string up
the tailor instead, since he has made confession of his crime.
Really, one cannot deny that this is a very singular story,
and it deserves to be written in letters of gold."

The executioner speedily untied the knots which confined the doctor,
and was passing the cord round the neck of the tailor, when the
Sultan of Kashgar, who had missed his jester, happened to make
inquiry of his officers as to what had become of him.

"Sire," replied they, "the hunchback having drunk more than was
good for him, escaped from the palace and was seen wandering about
the town, where this morning he was found dead. A man was arrested
for having caused his death, and held in custody till a gallows
was erected. At the moment that he was about to suffer punishment,
first one man arrived, and then another, each accusing themselves
of the murder, and this went on for a long time, and at the
present instant the chief of police is engaged in questioning
a man who declares that he alone is the true assassin."

The Sultan of Kashgar no sooner heard these words than he ordered
an usher to go to the chief of police and to bring all the persons
concerned in the hunchback's death, together with the corpse,
that he wished to see once again. The usher hastened on his errand,
but was only just in time, for the tailor was positively swinging
in the air, when his voice fell upon the silence of the crowd,
commanding the hangman to cut down the body. The hangman,
recognising the usher as one of the king's servants, cut down
the tailor, and the usher, seeing the man was safe, sought the chief
of police and gave him the Sultan's message. Accordingly, the chief
of police at once set out for the palace, taking with him the tailor,
the doctor, the purveyor, and the merchant, who bore the dead
hunchback on their shoulders.

When the procession reached the palace the chief of police prostrated
himself at the feet of the Sultan, and related all that he knew of
the matter. The Sultan was so much struck by the circumstances that he
ordered his private historian to write down an exact account of what
had passed, so that in the years to come the miraculous escape of the
four men who had thought themselves murderers might never be forgotten.

The Sultan asked everybody concerned in the hunchback's affair
to tell him their stories. Among others was a prating barber,
whose tale of one of his brothers follows.



Story of the Barber's Fifth Brother


As long as our father lived Alnaschar was very idle. Instead of working
for his bread he was not ashamed to ask for it every evening, and to
support himself next day on what he had received the night before.
When our father died, worn out by age, he only left seven hundred
silver drachmas to be divided amongst us, which made one hundred
for each son. Alnaschar, who had never possessed so much money
in his life, was quite puzzled to know what to do with it.
After reflecting upon the matter for some time he decided to lay it
out on glasses, bottles, and things of that sort, which he would
buy from a wholesale merchant. Having bought his stock he next
proceeded to look out for a small shop in a good position, where he
sat down at the open door, his wares being piled up in an uncovered
basket in front of him, waiting for a customer among the passers-by.

In this attitude he remained seated, his eyes fixed on the basket,
but his thoughts far away. Unknown to himself he began to talk
out loud, and a tailor, whose shop was next door to his, heard quite
plainly what he was saying.

"This basket," said Alnaschar to himself, "has cost me a hundred drachmas--
all that I possess in the world. Now in selling the contents
piece by piece I shall turn two hundred, and these hundreds I
shall again lay out in glass, which will produce four hundred.
By this means I shall in course of time make four thousand drachmas,
which will easily double themselves. When I have got ten thousand I
will give up the glass trade and become a jeweller, and devote all
my time to trading in pearls, diamonds, and other precious stones.
At last, having all the wealth that heart can desire, I will buy
a beautiful country house, with horses and slaves, and then I will
lead a merry life and entertain my friends. At my feasts I will
send for musicians and dancers from the neighbouring town to amuse
my guests. In spite of my riches I shall not, however, give up trade
till I have amassed a capital of a hundred thousand drachmas, when,
having become a man of much consideration, I shall request the hand
of the grand-vizir's daughter, taking care to inform the worthy
father that I have heard favourable reports of her beauty and wit,
and that I will pay down on our wedding day 3 thousand gold pieces.
Should the vizir refuse my proposal, which after all is hardly to
be expected, I will seize him by the beard and drag him to my house."

When I shall have married his daughter I will give her ten of the best
eunuchs that can be found for her service. Then I shall put on my most
gorgeous robes, and mounted on a horse with a saddle of fine gold,
and its trappings blazing with diamonds, followed by a train
of slaves, I shall present myself at the house of the grand-vizir,
the people casting down their eyes and bowing low as I pass along.
At the foot of the grand-vizir's staircase I shall dismount,
and while my servants stand in a row to right and left I shall
ascend the stairs, at the head of which the grand-vizir will be
waiting to receive me. He will then embrace me as his son-in-law,
and giving me his seat will place himself below me. This being done
(as I have every reason to expect), two of my servants will enter,
each bearing a purse containing a thousand pieces of gold.
One of these I shall present to him saying, "Here are the thousand
gold pieces that I offered for your daughter's hand, and here,"
I shall continue, holding out the second purse, "are another
thousand to show you that I am a man who is better than his word."
After hearing of such generosity the world will talk of nothing else.

I shall return home with the same pomp as I set out, and my wife
will send an officer to compliment me on my visit to her father,
and I shall confer on the officer the honour of a rich dress and
a handsome gift. Should she send one to me I shall refuse it and
dismiss the bearer. I shall never allow my wife to leave her rooms
on any pretext whatever without my permission, and my visits to her
will be marked by all the ceremony calculated to inspire respect.
No establishment will be better ordered than mine, and I shall take
care always to be dressed in a manner suitable to my position.
In the evening, when we retire to our apartments, I shall sit
in the place of honour, where I shall assume a grand demeanour
and speak little, gazing straight before me, and when my wife,
lovely as the full moon, stands humbly in front of my chair I shall
pretend not to see her. Then her women will say to me, "Respected lord
and master, your wife and slave is before you waiting to be noticed.
She is mortified that you never deign to look her way; she is
tired of standing so long. Beg her, we pray you, to be seated."
Of course I shall give no signs of even hearing this speech,
which will vex them mightily. They will throw themselves at my feet
with lamentations, and at length I will raise my head and throw a
careless glance at her, then I shall go back to my former attitude.
The women will think that I am displeased at my wife's dress and
will lead her away to put on a finer one, and I on my side shall
replace the one I am wearing with another yet more splendid.
They will then return to the charge, but this time it will take
much longer before they persuade me even to look at my wife.
It is as well to begin on my wedding-day as I mean to go on for the
rest of our lives.

The next day she will complain to her mother of the way she has
been treated, which will fill my heart with joy. Her mother
will come to seek me, and, kissing my hands with respect,
will say, "My lord" (for she could not dare to risk my anger
by using the familiar title of "son-in-law"), "My lord, do not,
I implore you, refuse to look upon my daughter or to approach her.
She only lives to please you, and loves you with all her soul."
But I shall pay no more heed to my mother-in-law's words than I
did to those of the women. Again she will beseech me to listen
to her entreaties, throwing herself this time at my feet, but all
to no purpose. Then, putting a glass of wine into my wife's hand,
she will say to her, "There, present that to him yourself, he cannot
have the cruelty to reject anything offered by so beautiful a hand,"
and my wife will take it and offer it to me tremblingly with tears
in her eyes, but I shall look in the other direction. This will
cause her to weep still more, and she will hold out the glass crying,
"Adorable husband, never shall I cease my prayers till you have done
me the favour to drink." Sick of her importunities, these words
will goad me to fury. I shall dart an angry look at her and give
her a sharp blow on the cheek, at the same time giving her a kick
so violent that she will stagger across the room and fall on to
the sofa.

"My brother," pursued the barber, "was so much absorbed in his dreams
that he actually did give a kick with his foot, which unluckily hit
the basket of glass. It fell into the street and was instantly
broken into a thousand pieces."

His neighbour the tailor, who had been listening to his visions,
broke into a loud fit of laughter as he saw this sight.

"Wretched man!" he cried, "you ought to die of shame at behaving
so to a young wife who has done nothing to you. You must be
a brute for her tears and prayers not to touch your heart.
If I were the grand-vizir I would order you a hundred blows from
a bullock whip, and would have you led round the town accompanied
by a herald who should proclaim your crimes."

The accident, so fatal to all his profits, had restored my brother
to his senses, and seeing that the mischief had been caused by his
own insufferable pride, he rent his clothes and tore his hair,
and lamented himself so loudly that the passers-by stopped to listen.
It was a Friday, so these were more numerous than usual.
Some pitied Alnaschar, others only laughed at him, but the vanity
which had gone to his head had disappeared with his basket of glass,
and he was loudly bewailing his folly when a lady, evidently a person
of consideration, rode by on a mule. She stopped and inquired
what was the matter, and why the man wept. They told her that he
was a poor man who had laid out all his money on this basket
of glass, which was now broken. On hearing the cause of these loud
wails the lady turned to her attendant and said to him, "Give him
whatever you have got with you." The man obeyed, and placed in my
brother's hands a purse containing five hundred pieces of gold.
Alnaschar almost died of joy on receiving it. He blessed the lady
a thousand times, and, shutting up his shop where he had no longer
anything to do, he returned home.

He was still absorbed in contemplating his good fortune, when a knock came
to his door, and on opening it he found an old woman standing outside.

"My son," she said, "I have a favour to ask of you. It is the hour
of prayer and I have not yet washed myself. Let me, I beg you,
enter your house, and give me water."

My brother, although the old woman was a stranger to him, did not
hesitate to do as she wished. He gave her a vessel of water and then
went back to his place and his thoughts, and with his mind busy over
his last adventure, he put his gold into a long and narrow purse,
which he could easily carry in his belt. During this time the old
woman was busy over her prayers, and when she had finished she
came and prostrated herself twice before my brother, and then
rising called down endless blessings on his head. Observing her
shabby clothes, my brother thought that her gratitude was in reality
a hint that he should give her some money to buy some new ones,
so he held out two pieces of gold. The old woman started back
in surprise as if she had received an insult. "Good heavens!"
she exclaimed, "what is the meaning of this? Is it possible that you
take me, my lord, for one of those miserable creatures who force
their way into houses to beg for alms? Take back your money.
I am thankful to say I do not need it, for I belong to a beautiful
lady who is very rich and gives me everything I want."

My brother was not clever enough to detect that the old woman had
merely refused the two pieces of money he had offered her in order
to get more, but he inquired if she could procure him the pleasure
of seeing this lady.

"Willingly," she replied; "and she will be charmed to marry you,
and to make you the master of all her wealth. So pick up your money
and follow me."

Delighted at the thought that he had found so easily both a
fortune and a beautiful wife, my brother asked no more questions,
but concealing his purse, with the money the lady had given him,
in the folds of his dress, he set out joyfully with his guide.

They walked for some distance till the old woman stopped at a
large house, where she knocked. The door was opened by a young
Greek slave, and the old woman led my brother across a well-paved
court into a well-furnished hall. Here she left him to inform
her mistress of his presence, and as the day was hot he flung
himself on a pile of cushions and took off his heavy turban.
In a few minutes there entered a lady, and my brother perceived at
the first glance that she was even more beautiful and more richly
dressed than he had expected. He rose from his seat, but the lady
signed to him to sit down again and placed herself beside him.
After the usual compliments had passed between them she said,
"We are not comfortable here, let us go into another room,"
and passing into a smaller chamber, apparently communicating
with no other, she continued to talk to him for some time.
Then rising hastily she left him, saying, "Stay where you are,
I will come back in a moment."

He waited as he was told, but instead of the lady there entered a huge
black slave with a sword in his hand. Approaching my brother with
an angry countenance he exclaimed, "What business have you here?"
His voice and manner were so terrific that Alnaschar had not strength
to reply, and allowed his gold to be taken from him, and even
sabre cuts to be inflicted on him without making any resistance.
As soon as he was let go, he sank on the ground powerless to move,
though he still had possession of his senses. Thinking he was dead,
the black ordered the Greek slave to bring him some salt, and between
them they rubbed it into his wounds, thus giving him acute agony,
though he had the presence of mind to give no sign of life.
They then left him, and their place was taken by the old woman,
who dragged him to a trapdoor and threw him down into a vault filled
with the bodies of murdered men.

At first the violence of his fall caused him to lose consciousness,
but luckily the salt which had been rubbed into his wounds had by
its smarting preserved his life, and little by little he regained
his strength. At the end of two days he lifted the trapdoor
during the night and hid himself in the courtyard till daybreak,
when he saw the old woman leave the house in search of more prey.
Luckily she did not observe him, and when she was out of sight he
stole from this nest of assassins and took refuge in my house.

I dressed his wounds and tended him carefully, and when a month
had passed he was as well as ever. His one thought was how to
be revenged on that wicked old hag, and for this purpose he had
a purse made large enough to contain five hundred gold pieces,
but filled it instead with bits of glass. This he tied round
him with his sash, and, disguising himself as an old woman,
he took a sabre, which he hid under his dress.

One morning as he was hobbling through the streets he met his
old enemy prowling to see if she could find anyone to decoy.
He went up to her and, imitating the voice of a woman, he said,
"Do you happen to have a pair of scales you could lend me?
I have just come from Persia and have brought with me five hundred
gold pieces, and I am anxious to see if they are the proper weight."

"Good woman," replied the old hag, "you could not have asked
anyone better. My son is a money-changer, and if you will follow
me he will weigh them for you himself. Only we must be quick or he
will have gone to his shop." So saying she led the way to the same
house as before, and the door was opened by the same Greek slave.

Again my brother was left in the hall, and the pretended son
appeared under the form of the black slave. "Miserable crone,"
he said to my brother, "get up and come with me," and turned
to lead the way to the place of murder. Alnaschar rose too,
and drawing the sabre from under his dress dealt the black such
a blow on his neck that his head was severed from his body.
My brother picked up the head with one hand, and seizing the body
with the other dragged it to the vault, when he threw it in and sent
the head after it. The Greek slave, supposing that all had passed
as usual, shortly arrived with the basin of salt, but when she
beheld Alnaschar with the sabre in his hand she let the basin fall
and turned to fly. My brother, however, was too quick for her,
and in another instant her head was rolling from her shoulders.
The noise brought the old woman running to see what was the matter,
and he seized her before she had time to escape. "Wretch!" he cried,
"do you know me?"

"Who are you, my lord?" she replied trembling all over. "I have
never seen you before."

"I am he whose house you entered to offer your hypocritical prayers.
Don't you remember now?"

She flung herself on her knees to implore mercy, but he cut her
in four pieces.

There remained only the lady, who was quite ignorant of all that
was taking place around her. He sought her through the house,
and when at last he found her, she nearly fainted with terror at
the sight of him. She begged hard for life, which he was generous
enough to give her, but he bade her to tell him how she had got into
partnership with the abominable creatures he had just put to death.

"I was once," replied she, "the wife of an honest merchant, and that
old woman, whose wickedness I did not know, used occasionally to
visit me. "Madam," she said to me one day, "we have a grand wedding
at our house to-day. If you would do us the honour to be present,
I am sure you would enjoy yourself." I allowed myself to be persuaded,
put on my richest dress, and took a purse with a hundred pieces of gold.
Once inside the doors I was kept by force by that dreadful black,
and it is now three years that I have been here, to my great grief."

"That horrible black must have amassed great wealth," remarked my brother.

"Such wealth," returned she, "that if you succeed in carrying it
all away it will make you rich for ever. Come and let us see
how much there is."

She led Alnaschar into a chamber filled with coffers packed with gold,
which he gazed at with an admiration he was powerless to conceal. "Go,"
she said, "and bring men to carry them away."

My brother did not wait to be told twice, and hurried out into
the streets, where he soon collected ten men. They all came back
to the house, but what was his surprise to find the door open,
and the room with the chests of gold quite empty. The lady had been
cleverer than himself, and had made the best use of her time. However,
he tried to console himself by removing all the beautiful furniture,
which more than made up for the five hundred gold pieces he had lost.

Unluckily, on leaving the house, he forgot to lock the door,
and the neighbours, finding the place empty, informed the police,
who next morning arrested Alnaschar as a thief. My brother tried to bribe
them to let him off, but far from listening to him they tied his hands,
and forced him to walk between them to the presence of the judge.
When they had explained to the official the cause of complaint,
he asked Alnaschar where he had obtained all the furniture that he
had taken to his house the day before.

"Sir," replied Alnaschar, "I am ready to tell you the whole story,
but give, I pray you, your word, that I shall run no risk of punishment."

"That I promise," said the judge. So my brother began at the
beginning and related all his adventures, and how he had avenged
himself on those who had betrayed him. As to the furniture,
he entreated the judge at least to allow him to keep part to make
up for the five hundred pieces of gold which had been stolen from him.

The judge, however, would say nothing about this, and lost no time
in sending men to fetch away all that Alnaschar had taken from
the house. When everything had been moved and placed under his roof
he ordered my brother to leave the town and never more to enter it
on peril of his life, fearing that if he returned he might seek
justice from the Caliph. Alnaschar obeyed, and was on his way
to a neighbouring city when he fell in with a band of robbers,
who stripped him of his clothes and left him naked by the roadside.
Hearing of his plight, I hurried after him to console him for
his misfortunes, and to dress him in my best robe. I then brought
him back disguised, under cover of night, to my house, where I
have since given him all the care I bestow on my other brothers.



The Story of the Barber's Sixth Brother


There now remains for me to relate to you the story of my sixth brother,
whose name was Schacabac. Like the rest of us, he inherited
a hundred silver drachmas from our father, which he thought
was a large fortune, but through ill-luck, he soon lost it all,
and was driven to beg. As he had a smooth tongue and good manners,
he really did very well in his new profession, and he devoted
himself specially to making friends with the servants in big houses,
so as to gain access to their masters.

One day he was passing a splendid mansion, with a crowd of servants
lounging in the courtyard. He thought that from the appearance
of the house it might yield him a rich harvest, so he entered
and inquired to whom it belonged.

"My good man, where do you come from?" replied the servant. "Can't you
see for yourself that it can belong to nobody but a Barmecide?"
for the Barmecides were famed for their liberality and generosity.
My brother, hearing this, asked the porters, of whom there were several,
if they would give him alms. They did not refuse, but told him
politely to go in, and speak to the master himself.

My brother thanked them for their courtesy and entered the building,
which was so large that it took him some time to reach the apartments
of the Barmecide. At last, in a room richly decorated with paintings,
he saw an old man with a long white beard, sitting on a sofa,
who received him with such kindness that my brother was emboldened
to make his petition.

"My lord," he said, "you behold in me a poor man who only lives
by the help of persons as rich and as generous as you."

Before he could proceed further, he was stopped by the astonishment
shown by the Barmecide. "Is it possible," he cried, "that while I
am in Bagdad, a man like you should be starving? That is a state
of things that must at once be put an end to! Never shall it be said
that I have abandoned you, and I am sure that you, on your part,
will never abandon me."

"My lord," answered my brother, "I swear that I have not broken
my fast this whole day."

"What, you are dying of hunger?" exclaimed the Barmecide.
"Here, slave; bring water, that we may wash our hands before meat!"
No slave appeared, but my brother remarked that the Barmecide did
not fail to rub his hands as if the water had been poured over them.

Then he said to my brother, "Why don't you wash your hands too?"
and Schacabac, supposing that it was a joke on the part of the
Barmecide (though he could see none himself), drew near, and imitated
his motion.

When the Barmecide had done rubbing his hands, he raised his voice,
and cried, "Set food before us at once, we are very hungry."
No food was brought, but the Barmecide pretended to help himself
from a dish, and carry a morsel to his mouth, saying as he did so,
"Eat, my friend, eat, I entreat. Help yourself as freely as if
you were at home! For a starving man, you seem to have a very
small appetite."

"Excuse me, my lord," replied Schacabac, imitating his gestures
as before, "I really am not losing time, and I do full justice
to the repast."

"How do you like this bread?" asked the Barmecide. "I find it
particularly good myself."

"Oh, my lord," answered my brother, who beheld neither meat nor bread,
"never have I tasted anything so delicious."

"Eat as much as you want," said the Barmecide. "I bought
the woman who makes it for five hundred pieces of gold,
so that I might never be without it."

After ordering a variety of dishes (which never came) to be placed on
the table, and discussing the merits of each one, the Barmecide declared
that having dined so well, they would now proceed to take their wine.
To this my brother at first objected, declaring that it was forbidden;
but on the Barmecide insisting that it was out of the question
that he should drink by himself, he consented to take a little.
The Barmecide, however, pretended to fill their glasses so often,
that my brother feigned that the wine had gone into his head,
and struck the Barmecide such a blow on the head, that he fell to
the ground. Indeed, he raised his hand to strike him a second time,
when the Barmecide cried out that he was mad, upon which my brother
controlled himself, and apologised and protested that it was
all the fault of the wine he had drunk. At this the Barmecide,
instead of being angry, began to laugh, and embraced him heartily.
"I have long been seeking," he exclaimed, "a man of your description,
and henceforth my house shall be yours. You have had the good
grace to fall in with my humour, and to pretend to eat and to drink
when nothing was there. Now you shall be rewarded by a really
good supper."

Then he clapped his hands, and all the dishes were brought that
they had tasted in imagination before and during the repast,
slaves sang and played on various instruments. All the while
Schacabac was treated by the Barmecide as a familiar friend,
and dressed in a garment out of his own wardrobe.

Twenty years passed by, and my brother was still living with
the Barmecide, looking after his house, and managing his affairs.
At the end of that time his generous benefactor died without heirs,
so all his possessions went to the prince. They even despoiled
my brother of those that rightly belonged to him, and he,
now as poor as he had ever been in his life, decided to cast
in his lot with a caravan of pilgrims who were on their way
to Mecca. Unluckily, the caravan was attacked and pillaged by
the Bedouins, and the pilgrims were taken prisoners. My brother
became the slave of a man who beat him daily, hoping to drive him
to offer a ransom, although, as Schacabac pointed out, it was
quite useless trouble, as his relations were as poor as himself.
At length the Bedouin grew tired of tormenting, and sent him on
a camel to the top of a high barren mountain, where he left him
to take his chance. A passing caravan, on its way to Bagdad,
told me where he was to be found, and I hurried to his rescue,
and brought him in a deplorable condition back to the town.

"This,"--continued the barber,--"is the tale I related to the
Caliph, who, when I had finished, burst into fits of laughter.

"Well were you called `the Silent,'" said he; "no name was ever
better deserved. But for reasons of my own, which it is not necessary
to mention, I desire you to leave the town, and never to come back."

"I had of course no choice but to obey, and travelled about for several
years until I heard of the death of the Caliph, when I hastily
returned to Bagdad, only to find that all my brothers were dead.
It was at this time that I rendered to the young cripple the important
service of which you have heard, and for which, as you know,
he showed such profound ingratitude, that he preferred rather
to leave Bagdad than to run the risk of seeing me. I sought him
long from place to place, but it was only to-day, when I expected
it least, that I came across him, as much irritated with me as ever"--
So saying the tailor went on to relate the story of the lame man
and the barber, which has already been told.

"When the barber," he continued, "had finished his tale, we came
to the conclusion that the young man had been right, when he
had accused him of being a great chatter-box. However, we wished
to keep him with us, and share our feast, and we remained at table
till the hour of afternoon prayer. Then the company broke up,
and I went back to work in my shop.

"It was during this interval that the little hunchback, half drunk
already, presented himself before me, singing and playing on his drum.
I took him home, to amuse my wife, and she invited him to supper.
While eating some fish, a bone got into his throat, and in spite
of all we could do, he died shortly. It was all so sudden that we
lost our heads, and in order to divert suspicion from ourselves,
we carried the body to the house of a Jewish physician. He placed
it in the chamber of the purveyor, and the purveyor propped it up in
the street, where it was thought to have been killed by the merchant.

"This, Sire, is the story which I was obliged to tell to satisfy
your highness. It is now for you to say if we deserve mercy
or punishment; life or death?"

The Sultan of Kashgar listened with an air of pleasure which filled
the tailor and his friends with hope. "I must confess," he exclaimed,
"that I am much more interested in the stories of the barber and
his brothers, and of the lame man, than in that of my own jester.
But before I allow you all four to return to your own homes, and have
the corpse of the hunchback properly buried, I should like to see
this barber who has earned your pardon. And as he is in this town,
let an usher go with you at once in search of him."

The usher and the tailor soon returned, bringing with them an old man
who must have been at least ninety years of age. "O Silent One,"
said the Sultan, "I am told that you know many strange stories.
Will you tell some of them to me?"

"Never mind my stories for the present," replied the barber,
"but will your Highness graciously be pleased to explain why this Jew,
this Christian, and this Mussulman, as well as this dead body,
are all here?"

"What business is that of yours?" asked the Sultan with a smile;
but seeing that the barber had some reasons for his question,
he commanded that the tale of the hunchback should be told him.

"It is certainly most surprising," cried he, when he had heard it all,
"but I should like to examine the body." He then knelt down, and took
the head on his knees, looking at it attentively. Suddenly he burst
into such loud laughter that he fell right backwards, and when he
had recovered himself enough to speak, he turned to the Sultan.
"The man is no more dead than I am," he said; "watch me." As he
spoke he drew a small case of medicines from his pocket and rubbed
the neck of the hunchback with some ointment made of balsam. Next he
opened the dead man's mouth, and by the help of a pair of pincers
drew the bone from his throat. At this the hunchback sneezed,
stretched himself and opened his eyes.

The Sultan and all those who saw this operation did not know which
to admire most, the constitution of the hunchback who had apparently
been dead for a whole night and most of one day, or the skill of
the barber, whom everyone now began to look upon as a great man.
His Highness desired that the history of the hunchback should be
written down, and placed in the archives beside that of the barber,
so that they might be associated in people's minds to the end of time.
And he did not stop there; for in order to wipe out the memory of
what they had undergone, he commanded that the tailor, the doctor,
the purveyor and the merchant, should each be clothed in his presence
with a robe from his own wardrobe before they returned home.
As for the barber, he bestowed on him a large pension, and kept him
near his own person.



The Adventures of Prince Camaralzaman and the Princess Badoura


Some twenty days' sail from the coast of Persia lies the isle of the
children of Khaledan. The island is divided into several provinces,
in each of which are large flourishing towns, and the whole forms
an important kingdom. It was governed in former days by a king
named Schahzaman, who, with good right, considered himself one of
the most peaceful, prosperous, and fortunate monarchs on the earth.
In fact, he had but one grievance, which was that none of his four
wives had given him an heir.

This distressed him so greatly that one day he confided his grief
to the grand-vizir, who, being a wise counsellor, said: "Such matters
are indeed beyond human aid. Allah alone can grant your desire,
and I should advise you, sire, to send large gifts to those holy men
who spend their lives in prayer, and to beg for their intercessions.
Who knows whether their petitions may not be answered!"

The king took his vizir's advice, and the result of so many prayers for
an heir to the throne was that a son was born to him the following year.

Schahzaman sent noble gifts as thank offerings to all the mosques
and religious houses, and great rejoicings were celebrated in honour
of the birth of the little prince, who was so beautiful that he
was named Camaralzaman, or "Moon of the Century."

Prince Camaralzaman was brought up with extreme care by an excellent
governor and all the cleverest teachers, and he did such credit to them
that when he was grown up, a more charming and accomplished young man
was not to be found. Whilst he was still a youth the king, his father,
who loved him dearly, had some thoughts of abdicating in his favour.
As usual he talked over his plans with his grand-vizir, who,
though he did not approve the idea, would not state all his objections.

"Sire," he replied, "the prince is still very young for the cares
of state. Your Majesty fears his growing idle and careless,
and doubtless you are right. But how would it be if he were first
to marry? This would attach him to his home, and your Majesty
might give him a share in your counsels, so that he might gradually
learn how to wear a crown, which you can give up to him whenever
you find him capable of wearing it."

The vizir's advice once more struck the king as being good,
and he sent for his son, who lost no time in obeying the summons,
and standing respectfully with downcast eyes before the king asked
for his commands.

"I have sent for you," said the king, "to say that I wish you to marry.
What do you think about it?"

The prince was so much overcome by these words that he remained
silent for some time. At length he said: "Sire, I beg you
to pardon me if I am unable to reply as you might wish.
I certainly did not expect such a proposal as I am still so young,
and I confess that the idea of marrying is very distasteful to me.
Possibly I may not always be in this mind, but I certainly feel
that it will require some time to induce me to take the step
which your Majesty desires."

This answer greatly distressed the king, who was sincerely grieved
by his objection to marriage. However he would not have recourse
to extreme measures, so he said: "I do not wish to force you;
I will give you time to reflect, but remember that such a step
is necessary, for a prince such as you who will some day be called
to rule over a great kingdom."

From this time Prince Camaralzaman was admitted to the royal council,
and the king showed him every mark of favour.

At the end of a year the king took his son aside, and said:
"Well, my son, have you changed your mind on the subject of marriage,
or do you still refuse to obey my wish?"

The prince was less surprised but no less firm than on the
former occasion, and begged his father not to press the subject,
adding that it was quite useless to urge him any longer.

This answer much distressed the king, who again confided his trouble
to his vizir.

"I have followed your advice," he said; "but Camaralzaman declines
to marry, and is more obstinate than ever."

"Sire," replied the vizir, "much is gained by patience, and your
Majesty might regret any violence. Why not wait another year and then
inform the Prince in the midst of the assembled council that the good
of the state demands his marriage? He cannot possibly refuse again
before so distinguished an assemblage, and in our immediate presence."

The Sultan ardently desired to see his son married at once, but he
yielded to the vizir's arguments and decided to wait. He then visited
the prince's mother, and after telling her of his disappointment
and of the further respite he had given his son, he added:
"I know that Camaralzaman confides more in you than he does in me.
Pray speak very seriously to him on this subject, and make him realize
that he will most seriously displease me if he remains obstinate,
and that he will certainly regret the measures I shall be obliged
to take to enforce my will."

So the first time the Sultana Fatima saw her son she told him she
had heard of his refusal to marry, adding how distressed she felt
that he should have vexed his father so much. She asked what reasons
he could have for his objections to obey.

"Madam," replied the prince, "I make no doubt that there are as
many good, virtuous, sweet, and amiable women as there are others
very much the reverse. Would that all were like you! But what revolts
me is the idea of marrying a woman without knowing anything at all
about her. My father will ask the hand of the daughter of some
neighbouring sovereign, who will give his consent to our union.
Be she fair or frightful, clever or stupid, good or bad, I must
marry her, and am left no choice in the matter. How am I to know
that she will not be proud, passionate, contemptuous, and recklessly
extravagant, or that her disposition will in any way suit mine?"

"But, my son," urged Fatima, "you surely do not wish to be the last
of a race which has reigned so long and so gloriously over this kingdom?"

"Madam," said the prince, "I have no wish to survive the king,
my father, but should I do so I will try to reign in such a manner
as may be considered worthy of my predecessors."

These and similar conversations proved to the Sultan how useless it
was to argue with his son, and the year elapsed without bringing
any change in the prince's ideas.

At length a day came when the Sultan summoned him before the council,
and there informed him that not only his own wishes but the good
of the empire demanded his marriage, and desired him to give his
answer before the assembled ministers.

At this Camaralzaman grew so angry and spoke with so much heat
that the king, naturally irritated at being opposed by his son
in full council, ordered the prince to be arrested and locked up
in an old tower, where he had nothing but a very little furniture,
a few books, and a single slave to wait on him.

Camaralzaman, pleased to be free to enjoy his books, showed himself
very indifferent to his sentence.

When night came he washed himself, performed his devotions,
and, having read some pages of the Koran, lay down on a couch,
without putting out the light near him, and was soon asleep.

Now there was a deep well in the tower in which Prince
Camaralzaman was imprisoned, and this well was a favourite
resort of the fairy Maimoune, daughter of Damriat, chief of a
legion of genii. Towards midnight Maimoune floated lightly
up from the well, intending, according to her usual habit,
to roam about the upper world as curiosity or accident might prompt.

The light in the prince's room surprised her, and without disturbing
the slave, who slept across the threshold, she entered the room,
and approaching the bed was still more astonished to find it occupied.

The prince lay with his face half hidden by the coverlet.
Maimoune lifted it a little and beheld the most beautiful youth
she had ever seen.

"What a marvel of beauty he must be when his eyes are open!"
she thought. "What can he have done to deserve to be treated
like this?"

She could not weary gazing at Camaralzaman, but at length,
having softly kissed his brow and each cheek, she replaced
the coverlet and resumed her flight through the air.

As she entered the middle region she heard the sound of great wings
coming towards her, and shortly met one of the race of bad genii.
This genie, whose name was Danhasch, recognised Maimoune with terror,
for he knew the supremacy which her goodness gave her over him.
He would gladly have avoided her altogether, but they were so near
that he must either be prepared to fight or yield to her, so he at once
addressed her in a conciliatory tone:

"Good Maimoune, swear to me by Allah to do me no harm, and on my
side I will promise not to injure you."

"Accursed genie!" replied Maimoune, "what harm can you do me?
But I will grant your power and give the promise you ask. And now
tell me what you have seen and done to-night."

"Fair lady," said Danhasch, "you meet me at the right moment to hear
something really interesting. I must tell you that I come from the
furthest end of China, which is one of the largest and most powerful
kingdoms in the world. The present king has one only daughter, who is
so perfectly lovely that neither you, nor I, nor any other creature
could find adequate terms in which to describe her marvellous charms.
You must therefore picture to yourself the most perfect features,
joined to a brilliant and delicate complexion, and an enchanting
expression, and even then imagination will fall short of the reality.

"The king, her father, has carefully shielded this treasure from
the vulgar gaze, and has taken every precaution to keep her from
the sight of everyone except the happy mortal he may choose to be
her husband. But in order to give her variety in her confinement he
has built her seven palaces such as have never been seen before.
The first palace is entirely composed of rock crystal, the second
of bronze, the third of fine steel, the fourth of another and more
precious species of bronze, the fifth of touchstone, the sixth
of silver, and the seventh of solid gold. They are all most
sumptuously furnished, whilst the gardens surrounding them are
laid out with exquisite taste. In fact, neither trouble nor cost
has been spared to make this retreat agreeable to the princess.
The report of her wonderful beauty has spread far and wide, and many
powerful kings have sent embassies to ask her hand in marriage.
The king has always received these embassies graciously, but says
that he will never oblige the princess to marry against her will,
and as she regularly declines each fresh proposal, the envoys have
had to leave as disappointed in the result of their missions as they
were gratified by their magnificent receptions."

"Sire," said the princess to her father, "you wish me to marry,
and I know you desire to please me, for which I am very grateful.
But, indeed, I have no inclination to change my state,
for where could I find so happy a life amidst so many beautiful
and delightful surroundings? I feel that I could never be as happy
with any husband as I am here, and I beg you not to press one on me."

"At last an embassy came from a king so rich and powerful that the
King of China felt constrained to urge this suit on his daughter.
He told her how important such an alliance would be, and pressed
her to consent. In fact, he pressed her so persistingly that the
princess at length lost her temper and quite forgot the respect due
to her father. "Sire," cried she angrily, "do not speak further
of this or any other marriage or I will plunge this dagger in my
breast and so escape from all these importunities."

"The king of China was extremely indignant with his daughter and replied:
"You have lost your senses and you must be treated accordingly."
So he had her shut in one set of rooms in one of her palaces,
and only allowed her ten old women, of whom her nurse was the head,
to wait on her and keep her company. He next sent letters to all
the kings who had sued for the princess's hand, begging they would
think of her no longer, as she was quite insane, and he desired
his various envoys to make it known that anyone who could cure her
should have her to wife.

"Fair Maimoune," continued Danhasch, "this is the present state
of affairs. I never pass a day without going to gaze on this
incomparable beauty, and I am sure that if you would only
accompany me you would think the sight well worth the trouble,
and own that you never saw such loveliness before."

The fairy only answered with a peal of laughter, and when at length
she had control of her voice she cried, "Oh, come, you are making
game of me! I thought you had something really interesting to tell
me instead of raving about some unknown damsel. What would you say
if you could see the prince I have just been looking at and whose
beauty is really transcendent? That is something worth talking about,
you would certainly quite lose your head."

"Charming Maimoune," asked Danhasch, "may I inquire who and what
is the prince of whom you speak?"

"Know," replied Maimoune, "that he is in much the same case as
your princess. The king, his father, wanted to force him to marry,
and on the prince's refusal to obey he has been imprisoned in an old
tower where I have just seen him."

"I don't like to contradict a lady," said Danhasch, "but you must
really permit me to doubt any mortal being as beautiful as my princess."

"Hold your tongue," cried Maimoune. "I repeat that is impossible."

"Well, I don't wish to seem obstinate," replied Danhasch, "the best
plan to test the truth of what I say will be for you to let me
take you to see the princess for yourself."

"There is no need for that," retorted Maimoune; "we can satisfy
ourselves in another way. Bring your princess here and lay
her down beside my prince. We can then compare them at leisure,
and decide which is in the right."

Danhasch readily consented, and after having the tower where the prince
was confined pointed out to him, and making a wager with Maimoune as to
the result of the comparison, he flew off to China to fetch the princess.

In an incredibly short time Danhasch returned, bearing the
sleeping princess. Maimoune led him to the prince's room,
and the rival beauty was placed beside him.

When the prince and princess lay thus side by side, an animated
dispute as to their respective charms arose between the fairy
and the genius. Danhasch began by saying:

"Now you see that my princess is more beautiful than your prince.
Can you doubt any longer?"

"Doubt! Of course I do!" exclaimed Maimoune. "Why, you must
be blind not to see how much my prince excels your princess.
I do not deny that your princess is very handsome, but only look
and you must own that I am in the right."

"There is no need for me to look longer," said Danhasch, "my first
impression will remain the same; but of course, charming Maimoune,
I am ready to yield to you if you insist on it."

"By no means," replied Maimoune. "I have no idea of being under
any obligation to an accursed genius like you. I refer the matter
to an umpire, and shall expect you to submit to his verdict."

Danhasch readily agreed, and on Maimoune striking the floor with her
foot it opened, and a hideous, hump-backed, lame, squinting genius,
with six horns on his head, hands like claws, emerged. As soon as he
beheld Maimoune he threw himself at her feet and asked her commands.

"Rise, Caschcasch," said she. "I summoned you to judge between me
and Danhasch. Glance at that couch, and say without any partiality
whether you think the youth or the maiden lying there the more beautiful."

Caschcasch looked at the prince and princess with every token
of surprise and admiration. At length, having gazed long without
being able to come to a decision, he said

"Madam, I must confess that I should deceive you were I to declare
one to be handsomer than the other. There seems to me only one
way in which to decide the matter, and that is to wake one after
the other and judge which of them expresses the greater admiration
for the other."

This advice pleased Maimoune and Danhasch, and the fairy at once
transformed herself into the shape of a gnat and settling on
Camaralzaman's throat stung him so sharply that he awoke. As he did
so his eyes fell on the Princess of China. Surprised at finding
a lady so near him, he raised himself on one arm to look at her.
The youth and beauty of the princess at once awoke a feeling to which his
heart had as yet been a stranger, and he could not restrain his delight.

"What loveliness! What charms! Oh, my heart, my soul!" he exclaimed,
as he kissed her forehead, her eyes and mouth in a way which would
certainly have roused her had not the genie's enchantments kept
her asleep.

"How, fair lady!" he cried, "you do not wake at the signs of
Camaralzaman's love? Be you who you may, he is not unworthy of you."

It then suddenly occurred to him, that perhaps this was the bride
his father had destined for him, and that the King had probably
had her placed in this room in order to see how far Camaralzaman's
aversion to marriage would withstand her charms.

"At all events," he thought, "I will take this ring as a remembrance
of her."

So saying he drew off a fine ring which the princess wore on
her finger, and replaced it by one of his own. After which he
lay down again and was soon fast asleep.

Then Danhasch, in his turn, took the form of a gnat and bit
the princess on her lip.

She started up, and was not a little amazed at seeing a young man
beside her. From surprise she soon passed to admiration, and then
to delight on perceiving how handsome and fascinating he was.

"Why," cried she, "was it you my father wished me to marry?
How unlucky that I did not know sooner! I should not have made
him so angry. But wake up! wake up! for I know I shall love you
with all my heart."

So saying she shook Camaralzaman so violently that nothing
but the spells of Maimoune could have prevented his waking.

"Oh!" cried the princess. "Why are you so drowsy?" So saying she
took his hand and noticed her own ring on his finger, which made her
wonder still more. But as he still remained in a profound slumber
she pressed a kiss on his cheek and soon fell fast asleep too.

Then Maimoune turning to the genie said: "Well, are you satisfied
that my prince surpasses your princess? Another time pray believe
me when I assert anything."

Then turning to Caschcasch: "My thanks to you, and now do you
and Danhasch bear the princess back to her own home."

The two genii hastened to obey, and Maimoune returned to her well.

On waking next morning the first thing Prince Camaralzaman did
was to look round for the lovely lady he had seen at night,
and the next to question the slave who waited on him about her.
But the slave persisted so strongly that he knew nothing of any lady,
and still less of how she got into the tower, that the prince lost
all patience, and after giving him a good beating tied a rope round him
and ducked him in the well till the unfortunate man cried out that he
would tell everything. Then the prince drew him up all dripping wet,
but the slave begged leave to change his clothes first, and as soon
as the prince consented hurried off just as he was to the palace.
Here he found the king talking to the grand-vizir of all the anxiety
his son had caused him. The slave was admitted at once and cried:

"Alas, Sire! I bring sad news to your Majesty. There can be no
doubt that the prince has completely lost his senses. He declares
that he saw a lady sleeping on his couch last night, and the state
you see me in proves how violent contradiction makes him."
He then gave a minute account of all the prince had said and done.

The king, much moved, begged the vizir to examine into this
new misfortune, and the latter at once went to the tower, where he
found the prince quietly reading a book. After the first exchange
of greetings the vizir said:

"I feel really very angry with your slave for alarming his Majesty
by the news he brought him."

"What news?" asked the prince.

"Ah!" replied the vizir, "something absurd, I feel sure, seeing how
I find you."

"Most likely," said the prince; "but now that you are here I am
glad of the opportunity to ask you where is the lady who slept
in this room last night?"

The grand-vizir felt beside himself at this question.

"Prince!" he exclaimed, "how would it be possible for any man,
much less a woman, to enter this room at night without walking over
your slave on the threshold? Pray consider the matter, and you
will realise that you have been deeply impressed by some dream."

But the prince angrily insisted on knowing who and where the lady was,
and was not to be persuaded by all the vizir's protestations to the
contrary that the plot had not been one of his making. At last,
losing patience, he seized the vizir by the beard and loaded him
with blows.

"Stop, Prince," cried the unhappy vizir, "stay and hear what I
have to say."

The prince, whose arm was getting tired, paused.

"I confess, Prince," said the vizir, "that there is some foundation
for what you say. But you know well that a minister has to carry
out his master's orders. Allow me to go and to take to the king
any message you may choose to send."

"Very well," said the prince; "then go and tell him that I consent
to marry the lady whom he sent or brought here last night.
Be quick and bring me back his answer."

The vizir bowed to the ground and hastened to leave the room and tower.

"Well," asked the king as soon as he appeared, "and how did you
find my son?"

"Alas, sire," was the reply, "the slave's report is only too true!"

He then gave an exact account of his interview with Camaralzaman
and of the prince's fury when told that it was not possible for any
lady to have entered his room, and of the treatment he himself
had received. The king, much distressed, determined to clear
up the matter himself, and, ordering the vizir to follow him,
set out to visit his son.

The prince received his father with profound respect, and the king,
making him sit beside him, asked him several questions, to which
Camaralzaman replied with much good sense. At last the king said:
"My son, pray tell me about the lady who, it is said, was in your room
last night."

"Sire," replied the prince, "pray do not increase my distress
in this matter, but rather make me happy by giving her to me
in marriage. However much I may have objected to matrimony formerly,
the sight of this lovely girl has overcome all my prejudices,
and I will gratefully receive her from your hands."

The king was almost speechless on hearing his son, but after a time
assured him most solemnly that he knew nothing whatever about
the lady in question, and had not connived at her appearance.
He then desired the prince to relate the whole story to him.

Camaralzaman did so at great length, showed the ring, and implored
his father to help to find the bride he so ardently desired.

"After all you tell me," remarked the king, "I can no longer doubt
your word; but how and whence the lady came, or why she should
have stayed so short a time I cannot imagine. The whole affair
is indeed mysterious. Come, my dear son, let us wait together
for happier days."

So saying the king took Camaralzaman by the hand and led him back
to the palace, where the prince took to his bed and gave himself up
to despair, and the king shutting himself up with his son entirely
neglected the affairs of state.

The prime minister, who was the only person admitted, felt it his
duty at last to tell the king how much the court and all the people
complained of his seclusion, and how bad it was for the nation.
He urged the sultan to remove with the prince to a lovely little
island close by, whence he could easily attend public audiences,
and where the charming scenery and fine air would do the invalid so
much good as to enable him to bear his father's occasional absence.

The king approved the plan, and as soon as the castle on the island
could be prepared for their reception he and the prince arrived there,
Schahzaman never leaving his son except for the prescribed public
audiences twice a week.

Whilst all this was happening in the capital of Schahzaman the two
genii had carefully borne the Princess of China back to her own
palace and replaced her in bed. On waking next morning she first
turned from one side to another and then, finding herself alone,
called loudly for her women.

"Tell me," she cried, "where is the young man I love so dearly,
and who slept near me last night?"

"Princess," exclaimed the nurse, "we cannot tell what you allude
to without more explanation."

"Why," continued the princess, "the most charming and beautiful young
man lay sleeping beside me last night. I did my utmost to wake him,
but in vain."

"Your Royal Highness wishes to make game of us," said the nurse.
"Is it your pleasure to rise?"

"I am quite in earnest," persisted the princess, "and I want to know
where he is."

"But, Princess," expostulated the nurse, "we left you quite alone
last night, and we have seen no one enter your room since then."

At this the princess lost all patience, and taking the nurse by her
hair she boxed her ears soundly, crying out: "You shall tell me,
you old witch, or I'll kill you."

The nurse had no little trouble in escaping, and hurried off to
the queen, to whom she related the whole story with tears in her eyes.

"You see, madam," she concluded, "that the princess must be out
of her mind. If only you will come and see her, you will be able
to judge for yourself."

The queen hurried to her daughter's apartments, and after tenderly
embracing her, asked her why she had treated her nurse so badly.

"Madam," said the princess, "I perceive that your Majesty wishes
to make game of me, but I can assure you that I will never marry
anyone except the charming young man whom I saw last night.
You must know where he is, so pray send for him."

The queen was much surprised by these words, but when she
declared that she knew nothing whatever of the matter the
princess lost all respect, and answered that if she were not
allowed to marry as she wished she should kill herself, and
it was in vain that the queen tried to pacify her and bring her to reason.

The king himself came to hear the rights of the matter, but the
princess only persisted in her story, and as a proof showed the ring
on her finger. The king hardly knew what to make of it all, but ended
by thinking that his daughter was more crazy than ever, and without
further argument he had her placed in still closer confinement,
with only her nurse to wait on her and a powerful guard to keep the door.

Then he assembled his council, and having told them the sad state
of things, added: "If any of you can succeed in curing the princess,
I will give her to him in marriage, and he shall be my heir."

An elderly emir present, fired with the desire to possess a young
and lovely wife and to rule over a great kingdom, offered to try
the magic arts with which he was acquainted.

"You are welcome to try," said the king, "but I make one condition,
which is, that should you fail you will lose your life."

The emir accepted the condition, and the king led him to the princess,
who, veiling her face, remarked, "I am surprised, sire, that you
should bring an unknown man into my presence."

"You need not be shocked," said the king; "this is one of my emirs
who asks your hand in marriage."

"Sire," replied the princess, "this is not the one you gave me
before and whose ring I wear. Permit me to say that I can accept
no other."

The emir, who had expected to hear the princess talk nonsense,
finding how calm and reasonable she was, assured the king that he
could not venture to undertake a cure, but placed his head at his
Majesty's disposal, on which the justly irritated monarch promptly
had it cut off.

This was the first of many suitors for the princess whose inability
to cure her cost them their lives.

Now it happened that after things had been going on in this way for
some time the nurse's son Marzavan returned from his travels. He had
been in many countries and learnt many things, including astrology.
Needless to say that one of the first things his mother told him
was the sad condition of the princess, his foster-sister. Marzavan
asked if she could not manage to let him see the princess without
the king's knowledge.

After some consideration his mother consented, and even persuaded
the eunuch on guard to make no objection to Marzavan's entering
the royal apartment.

The princess was delighted to see her foster-brother again,
and after some conversation she confided to him all her history
and the cause of her imprisonment.

Marzavan listened with downcast eyes and the utmost attention.
When she had finished speaking he said,

"If what you tell me, Princess, is indeed the case, I do not despair
of finding comfort for you. Take patience yet a little longer.
I will set out at once to explore other countries, and when you hear
of my return be sure that he for whom you sigh is not far off."
So saying, he took his leave and started next morning on his travels.

Marzavan journeyed from city to city and from one island and province
to another, and wherever he went he heard people talk of the strange
story of the Princess Badoura, as the Princess of China was named.

After four months he reached a large populous seaport town named Torf,
and here he heard no more of the Princess Badoura but a great deal
of Prince Camaralzaman, who was reported ill, and whose story
sounded very similar to that of the Princess Badoura.

Marzavan was rejoiced, and set out at once for Prince
Camaralzaman's residence. The ship on which he embarked had
a prosperous voyage till she got within sight of the capital
of King Schahzaman, but when just about to enter the harbour she
suddenly struck on a rock, and foundered within sight of the
palace where the prince was living with his father and the grand-vizir.

Marzavan, who swam well, threw himself into the sea and managed
to land close to the palace, where he was kindly received,
and after having a change of clothing given him was brought before
the grand-vizir. The vizir was at once attracted by the young man's
superior air and intelligent conversation, and perceiving that he
had gained much experience in the course of his travels, he said,
"Ah, how I wish you had learnt some secret which might enable you
to cure a malady which has plunged this court into affliction
for some time past!"

Marzavan replied that if he knew what the illness was he might
possibly be able to suggest a remedy, on which the vizir related
to him the whole history of Prince Camaralzaman.

On hearing this Marzavan rejoiced inwardly, for he felt sure that he
had at last discovered the object of the Princess Badoura's infatuation.
However, he said nothing, but begged to be allowed to see the prince.

On entering the royal apartment the first thing which struck
him was the prince himself, who lay stretched out on his bed
with his eyes closed. The king sat near him, but, without paying
any regard to his presence, Marzavan exclaimed, "Heavens! what a
striking likeness!" And, indeed, there was a good deal of resemblance
between the features of Camaralzaman and those of the Princess of China.

These words caused the prince to open his eyes with languid curiosity,
and Marzavan seized this moment to pay him his compliments,
contriving at the same time to express the condition of the Princess
of China in terms unintelligible, indeed, to the Sultan and his vizir,
but which left the prince in no doubt that his visitor could give
him some welcome information.

The prince begged his father to allow him the favour of a private
interview with Marzavan, and the king was only too pleased to find
his son taking an interest in anyone or anything. As soon as they
were left alone Marzavan told the prince the story of the Princess
Badoura and her sufferings, adding, "I am convinced that you alone
can cure her; but before starting on so long a journey you must
be well and strong, so do your best to recover as quickly as may be."

These words produced a great effect on the prince, who was so much
cheered by the hopes held out that he declared he felt able
to get up and be dressed. The king was overjoyed at the result
of Marzavan's interview, and ordered public rejoicings in honour
of the prince's recovery.

Before long the prince was quite restored to his original state
of health, and as soon as he felt himself really strong he took
Marzavan aside and said:

"Now is the time to perform your promise. I am so impatient to see
my beloved princess once more that I am sure I shall fall ill
again if we do not start soon. The one obstacle is my father's
tender care of me, for, as you may have noticed, he cannot bear
me out of his sight."

"Prince," replied Marzavan, "I have already thought over the matter,
and this is what seems to me the best plan. You have not been
out of doors since my arrival. Ask the king's permission to go
with me for two or three days' hunting, and when he has given
leave order two good horses to be held ready for each of us.
Leave all the rest to me."

Next day the prince seized a favourable opportunity for making
his request, and the king gladly granted it on condition that
only one night should be spent out for fear of too great fatigue
after such a long illness.

Next morning Prince Camaralzaman and Marzavan were off betimes,
attended by two grooms leading the two extra horses. They hunted
a little by the way, but took care to get as far from the towns
as possible. At night-fall they reached an inn, where they supped
and slept till midnight. Then Marzavan awoke and roused the prince
without disturbing anyone else. He begged the prince to give him
the coat he had been wearing and to put on another which they had
brought with them. They mounted their second horses, and Marzavan
led one of the grooms' horses by the bridle.

By daybreak our travellers found themselves where four cross roads
met in the middle of the forest. Here Marzavan begged the prince
to wait for him, and leading the groom's horse into a dense part
of the wood he cut its throat, dipped the prince's coat in its blood,
and having rejoined the prince threw the coat on the ground where
the roads parted.

In answer to Camaralzaman's inquiries as to the reason for this,
Marzavan replied that the only chance they had of continuing their journey
was to divert attention by creating the idea of the prince's death.
"Your father will doubtless be plunged in the deepest grief,"
he went on, "but his joy at your return will be all the greater."

The prince and his companion now continued their journey by land
and sea, and as they had brought plenty of money to defray their
expenses they met with no needless delays. At length they reached
the capital of China, where they spent three days in a suitable
lodging to recover from their fatigues.

During this time Marzavan had an astrologer's dress
prepared for the prince. They then went to the baths,
after which the prince put on the astrologer's robe and was
conducted within sight of the king's palace by Marzavan,
who left him there and went to consult his mother, the princess's nurse.

Meantime the prince, according to Marzavan's instructions,
advanced close to the palace gates and there proclaimed aloud:

"I am an astrologer and I come to restore health to
the Princess Badoura, daughter of the high and mighty
King of China, on the conditions laid down by His
Majesty of marrying her should I succeed, or of losing my life if I fail."

It was some little time since anyone had presented himself to run
the terrible risk involved in attempting to cure the princess,
and a crowd soon gathered round the prince. On perceiving his youth,
good looks, and distinguished bearing, everyone felt pity for him.

"What are you thinking of, sir," exclaimed some; "why expose yourself
to certain death? Are not the heads you see exposed on the town
wall sufficient warning? For mercy's sake give up this mad idea
and retire whilst you can."

But the prince remained firm, and only repeated his cry with
greater assurance, to the horror of the crowd.

"He is resolved to die!" they cried; "may heaven have pity on him!"

Camaralzaman now called out for the third time, and at last
the grand-vizir himself came out and fetched him in.

The prime minister led the prince to the king, who was much struck
by the noble air of this new adventurer, and felt such pity for
the fate so evidently in store for him, that he tried to persuade
the young man to renounce his project.

But Camaralzaman politely yet firmly persisted in his intentions,
and at length the king desired the eunuch who had the guard of the
princess's apartments to conduct the astrologer to her presence.

The eunuch led the way through long passages, and Camaralzaman
followed rapidly, in haste to reach the object of his desires.
At last they came to a large hall which was the ante-room to the
princess's chamber, and here Camaralzaman said to the eunuch:

"Now you shall choose. Shall I cure the princess in her own presence,
or shall I do it from here without seeing her?"

The eunuch, who had expressed many contemptuous doubts as they came
along of the newcomer's powers, was much surprised and said:

"If you really can cure, it is immaterial when you do it.
Your fame will be equally great."

"Very well," replied the prince: "then, impatient though I am
to see the princess, I will effect the cure where I stand,
the better to convince you of my power." He accordingly drew
out his writing case and wrote as follows--"Adorable princess!
The enamoured Camaralzaman has never forgotten the moment when,
contemplating your sleeping beauty, he gave you his heart.
As he was at that time deprived of the happiness of conversing
with you, he ventured to give you his ring as a token of his love,
and to take yours in exchange, which he now encloses in this letter.
Should you deign to return it to him he will be the happiest
of mortals, if not he will cheerfully resign himself to death,
seeing he does so for love of you. He awaits your reply in your
ante-room."

Having finished this note the prince carefully enclosed the ring in it
without letting the eunuch see it, and gave him the letter, saying:

"Take this to your mistress, my friend, and if on reading it
and seeing its contents she is not instantly cured, you may call
me an impudent impostor."

The eunuch at once passed into the princess's room, and handing
her the letter said:

"Madam, a new astrologer has arrived, who declares that you will be
cured as soon as you have read this letter and seen what it contains."

The princess took the note and opened it with languid indifference.
But no sooner did she see her ring than, barely glancing at the writing,
she rose hastily and with one bound reached the doorway and pushed
back the hangings. Here she and the prince recognised each other,
and in a moment they were locked in each other's arms, where they
tenderly embraced, wondering how they came to meet at last after
so long a separation. The nurse, who had hastened after her charge,
drew them back to the inner room, where the princess restored her ring
to Camaralzaman.

"Take it back," she said, "I could not keep it without returning
yours to you, and I am resolved to wear that as long as I live."

Meantime the eunuch had hastened back to the king. "Sire," he cried,
"all the former doctors and astrologers were mere quacks.
This man has cured the princess without even seeing her."
He then told all to the king, who, overjoyed, hastened to his
daughter's apartments, where, after embracing her, he placed
her hand in that of the prince, saying:

"Happy stranger, I keep my promise, and give you my daughter to wife,
be you who you may. But, if I am not much mistaken, your condition
is above what you appear to be."

The prince thanked the king in the warmest and most respectful terms,
and added: "As regards my person, your Majesty has rightly guessed
that I am not an astrologer. It is but a disguise which I assumed
in order to merit your illustrious alliance. I am myself a prince,
my name is Camaralzaman, and my father is Schahzaman, King of the
Isles of the Children of Khaledan." He then told his whole history,
including the extraordinary manner of his first seeing and loving
the Princess Badoura.

When he had finished the king exclaimed: "So remarkable a story must
not be lost to posterity. It shall be inscribed in the archives
of my kingdom and published everywhere abroad."

The wedding took place next day amidst great pomp and rejoicings.
Marzavan was not forgotten, but was given a lucrative post at court,
with a promise of further advancement.

The prince and princess were now entirely happy, and months slipped
by unconsciously in the enjoyment of each other's society.

One night, however, Prince Camaralzaman dreamt that he saw his
father lying at the point of death, and saying: "Alas! my son whom
I loved so tenderly, has deserted me and is now causing my death."

The prince woke with such a groan as to startle the princess,
who asked what was the matter.

"Ah!" cried the prince, "at this very moment my father is perhaps
no more!" and he told his dream.

The princess said but little at the time, but next morning she went
to the king, and kissing his hand said:

"I have a favour to ask of your Majesty, and I beg you to believe
that it is in no way prompted by my husband. It is that you will
allow us both to visit my father-in-law King Schahzaman."

Sorry though the king felt at the idea of parting with his daughter,
he felt her request to be so reasonable that he could not refuse it,
and made but one condition, which was that she should only spend
one year at the court of King Schahzaman, suggesting that in future
the young couple should visit their respective parents alternately.

The princess brought this good news to her husband, who thanked
her tenderly for this fresh proof of her affection.

All preparations for the journey were now pressed forwards, and when
all was ready the king accompanied the travellers for some days,
after which he took an affectionate leave of his daughter, and charging
the prince to take every care of her, returned to his capital.

The prince and princess journeyed on, and at the end of a month
reached a huge meadow interspersed with clumps of big trees which cast
a most pleasant shade. As the heat was great, Camaralzaman thought it
well to encamp in this cool spot. Accordingly the tents were pitched,
and the princess entering hers whilst the prince was giving his
further orders, removed her girdle, which she placed beside her,
and desiring her women to leave her, lay down and was soon asleep.

When the camp was all in order the prince entered the tent and,
seeing the princess asleep, he sat down near her without speaking.
His eyes fell on the girdle which, he took up, and whilst inspecting
the precious stones set in it he noticed a little pouch sewn
to the girdle and fastened by a loop. He touched it and felt
something hard within. Curious as to what this might be, he opened
the pouch and found a cornelian engraved with various figures
and strange characters.

"This cornelian must be something very precious," thought he,
"or my wife would not wear it on her person with so much care."

In truth it was a talisman which the Queen of China had given
her daughter, telling her it would ensure her happiness as long
as she carried it about her.

The better to examine the stone the prince stepped to the open
doorway of the tent. As he stood there holding it in the open
palm of his hand, a bird suddenly swooped down, picked the stone
up in its beak and flew away with it.

Imagine the prince's dismay at losing a thing by which his wife
evidently set such store!

The bird having secured its prey flew off some yards and
alighted on the ground, holding the talisman it its beak.
Prince Camaralzaman advanced, hoping the bird would drop it, but as
soon as he approached the thief fluttered on a little further still.
He continued his pursuit till the bird suddenly swallowed the stone
and took a longer flight than before. The prince then hoped to kill
it with a stone, but the more hotly he pursued the further flew the bird.

In this fashion he was led on by hill and dale through the entire day,
and when night came the tiresome creature roosted on the top
of a very high tree where it could rest in safety.

The prince in despair at all his useless trouble began to think
whether he had better return to the camp. "But," thought he,
"how shall I find my way back? Must I go up hill or down?
I should certainly lose my way in the dark, even if my strength
held out." Overwhelmed by hunger, thirst, fatigue and sleep,
he ended by spending the night at the foot of the tree.

Next morning Camaralzaman woke up before the bird left its perch,
and no sooner did it take flight than he followed it again
with as little success as the previous day, only stopping to eat
some herbs and fruit he found by the way. In this fashion he
spent ten days, following the bird all day and spending the night
at the foot of a tree, whilst it roosted on the topmost bough.
On the eleventh day the bird and the prince reached a large town,
and as soon as they were close to its walls the bird took a sudden
and higher flight and was shortly completely out of sight,
whilst Camaralzaman felt in despair at having to give up all hopes
of ever recovering the talisman of the Princess Badoura.

Much cast down, he entered the town, which was built near the sea
and had a fine harbour. He walked about the streets for a long time,
not knowing where to go, but at length as he walked near the seashore
he found a garden door open and walked in.

The gardener, a good old man, who was at work, happened to look up,
and, seeing a stranger, whom he recognised by his dress as a Mussulman,
he told him to come in at once and to shut the door.

Camaralzaman did as he was bid, and inquired why this precaution
was taken.

"Because," said the gardener, "I see that you are a stranger and
a Mussulman, and this town is almost entirely inhabited by idolaters,
who hate and persecute all of our faith. It seems almost a miracle
that has led you to this house, and I am indeed glad that you
have found a place of safety."

Camaralzaman warmly thanked the kind old man for offering him shelter,
and was about to say more, but the gardener interrupted him with:

"Leave compliments alone. You are weary and must be hungry.
Come in, eat, and rest." So saying he led the prince into his cottage,
and after satisfying his hunger begged to learn the cause of
his arrival.

Camaralzaman told him all without disguise, and ended by inquiring
the shortest way to his father's capital. "For," added he,
"if I tried to rejoin the princess, how should I find her after
eleven days' separation. Perhaps, indeed, she may be no longer alive!"
At this terrible thought he burst into tears.

The gardener informed Camaralzaman that they were quite a year's land
journey to any Mahomedan country, but that there was a much shorter
route by sea to the Ebony Island, from whence the Isles of the Children
of Khaledan could be easily reached, and that a ship sailed once
a year for the Ebony Island by which he might get so far as his very home.

"If only you had arrived a few days sooner," he said, "you might
have embarked at once. As it is you must now wait till next year,
but if you care to stay with me I offer you my house, such as it is,
with all my heart."

Prince Camaralzaman thought himself lucky to find some place of refuge,
and gladly accepted the gardener's offer. He spent his days working in
the garden, and his nights thinking of and sighing for his beloved wife.

Let us now see what had become during this time of the Princess Badoura.

On first waking she was much surprised not to find the prince
near her. She called her women and asked if they knew where he was,
and whilst they were telling her that they had seen him enter
the tent, but had not noticed his leaving it, she took up her belt
and perceived that the little pouch was open and the talisman gone.

She at once concluded that her husband had taken it and would shortly
bring it back. She waited for him till evening rather impatiently,
and wondering what could have kept him from her so long. When night
came without him she felt in despair and abused the talisman
and its maker roundly. In spite of her grief and anxiety however,
she did not lose her presence of mind, but decided on a courageous,
though very unusual step.

Only the princess and her women knew of Camaralzaman's disappearance,
for the rest of the party were sleeping or resting in their tents.
Fearing some treason should the truth be known, she ordered her
women not to say a word which would give rise to any suspicion,
and proceeded to change her dress for one of her husband's, to whom,
as has been already said, she bore a strong likeness.

In this disguise she looked so like the prince that when she gave
orders next morning to break up the camp and continue the journey no
one suspected the change. She made one of her women enter her litter,
whilst she herself mounted on horseback and the march began.

After a protracted journey by land and sea the princess, still under
the name and disguise of Prince Camaralzaman, arrived at the capital
of the Ebony Island whose king was named Armanos.

No sooner did the king hear that the ship which was just in port
had on board the son of his old friend and ally than he hurried
to meet the supposed prince, and had him and his retinue brought
to the palace, where they were lodged and entertained sumptuously.

After three days, finding that his guest, to whom he had taken
a great fancy, talked of continuing his journey, King Armanos said
to him:

"Prince, I am now an old man, and unfortunately I have no son
to whom to leave my kingdom. It has pleased Heaven to give me
only one daughter, who possesses such great beauty and charm
that I could only give her to a prince as highly born and as
accomplished as yourself. Instead, therefore, of returning to your
own country, take my daughter and my crown and stay with us.
I shall feel that I have a worthy successor, and shall cheerfully
retire from the fatigues of government."

The king's offer was naturally rather embarrassing to the Princess
Badoura. She felt that it was equally impossible to confess that she
had deceived him, or to refuse the marriage on which he had set his heart;
a refusal which might turn all his kindness to hatred and persecution.

All things considered, she decided to accept, and after a few moments
silence said with a blush, which the king attributed to modesty:

"Sire, I feel so great an obligation for the good opinion
your Majesty has expressed for my person and of the honour
you do me, that, though I am quite unworthy of it,
I dare not refuse. But, sire, I can only accept such
an alliance if you give me your promise to assist me with your counsels."

The marriage being thus arranged, the ceremony was fixed for the
following day, and the princess employed the intervening time in
informing the officers of her suite of what had happened, assuring them
that the Princess Badoura had given her full consent to the marriage.
She also told her women, and bade them keep her secret well.

King Armanos, delighted with the success of his plans, lost no
time in assembling his court and council, to whom he presented
his successor, and placing his future son-in-law on the throne
made everyone do homage and take oaths of allegiance to the new king.

At night the whole town was filled with rejoicings, and with much pomp
the Princess Haiatelnefous (this was the name of the king's daughter)
was conducted to the palace of the Princess Badoura.

Now Badoura had thought much of the difficulties of her first
interview with King Armanos' daughter, and she felt the only thing
to do was at once to take her into her confidence.

Accordingly, as soon as they were alone she took Haiatelnefous
by the hand and said:

"Princess, I have a secret to tell you, and must throw myself
on your mercy. I am not Prince Camaralzaman, but a princess
like yourself and his wife, and I beg you to listen to my story,
then I am sure you will forgive my imposture, in consideration
of my sufferings."

She then related her whole history, and at its close Haiatelnefous
embraced her warmly, and assured her of her entire sympathy
and affection.

The two princesses now planned out their future action, and agreed
to combine to keep up the deception and to let Badoura continue
to play a man's part until such time as there might be news
of the real Camaralzaman.

Whilst these things were passing in the Ebony Island Prince
Camaralzaman continued to find shelter in the gardeners cottage
in the town of the idolaters.

Early one morning the gardener said to the prince:

"To-day is a public holiday, and the people of the town not only
do not work themselves but forbid others to do so. You had better
therefore take a good rest whilst I go to see some friends, and as
the time is near for the arrival of the ship of which I told you I
will make inquiries about it, and try to bespeak a passage for you."
He then put on his best clothes and went out, leaving the prince,
who strolled into the garden and was soon lost in thoughts of his
dear wife and their sad separation.

As he walked up and down he was suddenly disturbed in his reverie
by the noise two large birds were making in a tree.

Camaralzaman stood still and looked up, and saw that the birds were
fighting so savagely with beaks and claws that before long one fell dead
to the ground, whilst the conqueror spread his wings and flew away.
Almost immediately two other larger birds, who had been watching the duel,
flew up and alighted, one at the head and the other at the feet of
the dead bird. They stood there some time sadly shaking their heads,
and then dug up a grave with their claws in which they buried him.

As soon as they had filled in the grave the two flew off, and ere
long returned, bringing with them the murderer, whom they held,
one by a wing and the other by a leg, with their beaks, screaming and
struggling with rage and terror. But they held tight, and having
brought him to his victim's grave, they proceeded to kill him,
after which they tore open his body, scattered the inside and once
more flew away.

The prince, who had watched the whole scene with much interest,
now drew near the spot where it happened, and glancing at the dead
bird he noticed something red lying near which had evidently fallen
out of its inside. He picked it up, and what was his surprise when he
recognised the Princess Badoura's talisman which had been the cause
of many misfortunes. It would be impossible to describe his joy;
he kissed the talisman repeatedly, wrapped it up, and carefully
tied it round his arm. For the first time since his separation
from the princess he had a good night, and next morning he was up
at day-break and went cheerfully to ask what work he should do.

The gardener told him to cut down an old fruit tree which had quite
died away, and Camaralzaman took an axe and fell to vigorously.
As he was hacking at one of the roots the axe struck on something hard.
On pushing away the earth he discovered a large slab of bronze,
under which was disclosed a staircase with ten steps.
He went down them and found himself in a roomy kind of cave
in which stood fifty large bronze jars, each with a cover on it.
The prince uncovered one after another, and found them all filled
with gold dust. Delighted with his discovery he left the cave,
replaced the slab, and having finished cutting down the tree waited
for the gardener's return.

The gardener had heard the night before that the ship about which he
was inquiring would start ere long, but the exact date not being yet
known he had been told to return next day for further information.
He had gone therefore to inquire, and came back with good news
beaming in his face.

"My son," said he, "rejoice and hold yourself ready to start
in three days' time. The ship is to set sail, and I have arranged
all about your passage with the captain.

"You could not bring me better news," replied Camaralzaman,
"and in return I have something pleasant to tell you. Follow me
and see the good fortune which has befallen you."

He then led the gardener to the cave, and having shown him the
treasure stored up there, said how happy it made him that Heaven
should in this way reward his kind host's many virtues and compensate
him for the privations of many years.

"What do you mean?" asked the gardener. "Do you imagine that I should
appropriate this treasure? It is yours, and I have no right whatever
to it. For the last eighty years I have dug up the ground here without
discovering anything. It is clear that these riches are intended
for you, and they are much more needed by a prince like yourself
than by an old man like me, who am near my end and require nothing.
This treasure comes just at the right time, when you are about
to return to your own country, where you will make good use of it."

But the prince would not hear of this suggestion, and finally
after much discussion they agreed to divide the gold. When this
was done the gardener said:

"My son, the great thing now is to arrange how you can best carry
off this treasure as secretly as possible for fear of losing it.
There are no olives in the Ebony Island, and those imported from
here fetch a high price. As you know, I have a good stock of the
olives which grew in this garden. Now you must take fifty jars,
fill each half full of gold dust and fill them up with the olives.
We will then have them taken on board ship when you embark."

The prince took this advice, and spent the rest of the day filling
the fifty jars, and fearing lest the precious talisman might slip
from his arm and be lost again, he took the precaution of putting
it in one of the jars, on which he made a mark so as to be able
to recognise it. When night came the jars were all ready,
and the prince and his host went to bed.

Whether in consequence of his great age, or of the fatigues and excitement
of the previous day, I do not know, but the gardener passed a very
bad night. He was worse next day, and by the morning of the third day was
dangerously ill. At daybreak the ship's captain and some of his sailors
knocked at the garden door and asked for the passenger who was to embark.

"I am he," said Camaralzaman, who had opened the door.
"The gardener who took my passage is ill and cannot see you,
but please come in and take these jars of olives and my bag,
and I will follow as soon as I have taken leave of him."

The sailors did as he asked, and the captain before leaving charged
Camaralzaman to lose no time, as the wind was fair, and he wished
to set sail at once.

As soon as they were gone the prince returned to the cottage
to bid farewell to his old friend, and to thank him once more
for all his kindness. But the old man was at his last gasp,
and had barely murmured his confession of faith when he expired.

Camaralzaman was obliged to stay and pay him the last offices,
so having dug a grave in the garden he wrapped the kind old man up
and buried him. He then locked the door, gave up the key to the owner
of the garden, and hurried to the quay only to hear that the ship
had sailed long ago, after waiting three hours for him.

It may well be believed that the prince felt in despair at this
fresh misfortune, which obliged him to spend another year in a strange
and distasteful country. Moreover, he had once more lost the Princess
Badoura's talisman, which he feared he might never see again.
There was nothing left for him but to hire the garden as the old man
had done, and to live on in the cottage. As he could not well cultivate
the garden by himself, he engaged a lad to help him, and to secure
the rest of the treasure he put the remaining gold dust into fifty more
jars, filling them up with olives so as to have them ready for transport.

Whilst the prince was settling down to this second year of toil
and privation, the ship made a rapid voyage and arrived safely
at the Ebony Island.

As the palace of the new king, or rather of the Princess Badoura,
overlooked the harbour, she saw the ship entering it and asked what
vessel it was coming in so gaily decked with flags, and was told
that it was a ship from the Island of the Idolaters which yearly
brought rich merchandise.

The princess, ever on the look out for any chance of news of her
beloved husband, went down to the harbour attended by some officers
of the court, and arrived just as the captain was landing. She sent for
him and asked many questions as to his country, voyage, what passengers
he had, and what his vessel was laden with. The captain answered all
her questions, and said that his passengers consisted entirely of traders
who brought rich stuffs from various countries, fine muslins, precious
stones, musk, amber, spices, drugs, olives, and many other things.

As soon as he mentioned olives, the princess, who was very partial
to them, exclaimed:

"I will take all you have on board. Have them unloaded and we
will make our bargain at once, and tell the other merchants to let
me see all their best wares before showing them to other people."

"Sire," replied the captain, "I have on board fifty very large
pots of olives. They belong to a merchant who was left behind,
as in spite of waiting for him he delayed so long that I was obliged
to set sail without him."

"Never mind," said the princess, "unload them all the same, and we
will arrange the price."

The captain accordingly sent his boat off to the ship and it soon
returned laden with the fifty pots of olives. The princess asked
what they might be worth.

"Sire," replied the captain, "the merchant is very poor. Your Majesty
will not overpay him if you give him a thousand pieces of silver."

"In order to satisfy him and as he is so poor," said the princess,
"I will order a thousand pieces of gold to be given you, which you
will be sure to remit to him."

So saying she gave orders for the payment and returned to the palace,
having the jars carried before her. When evening came the Princess
Badoura retired to the inner part of the palace, and going to the
apartments of the Princess Haiatelnefous she had the fifty jars
of olives brought to her. She opened one to let her friend taste
the olives and to taste them herself, but great was her surprise when,
on pouring some into a dish, she found them all powdered with
gold dust. "What an adventure! how extraordinary!" she cried.
Then she had the other jars opened, and was more and more surprised
to find the olives in each jar mixed with gold dust.

But when at length her talisman was discovered in one of the jars
her emotion was so great that she fainted away. The Princess
Haiatelnefous and her women hastened to restore her, and as soon
as she recovered consciousness she covered the precious talisman
with kisses.

Then, dismissing the attendants, she said to her friend:

"You will have guessed, my dear, that it was the sight of this
talisman which has moved me so deeply. This was the cause
of my separation from my dear husband, and now, I am convinced,
it will be the means of our reunion."

As soon as it was light next day the Princess Badoura sent
for the captain, and made further inquiries about the merchant
who owned the olive jars she had bought.

In reply the captain told her all he knew of the place where the
young man lived, and how, after engaging his passage, he came
to be left behind.

"If that is the case," said the princess, "you must set sail
at once and go back for him. He is a debtor of mine and must be
brought here at once, or I will confiscate all your merchandise.
I shall now give orders to have all the warehouses where your cargo
is placed under the royal seal, and they will only be opened when you
have brought me the man I ask for. Go at once and obey my orders."

The captain had no choice but to do as he was bid, so hastily
provisioning his ship he started that same evening on his return voyage.

When, after a rapid passage, he gained sight of the Island of Idolaters,
he judged it better not to enter the harbour, but casting anchor
at some distance he embarked at night in a small boat with six
active sailors and landed near Camaralzaman's cottage.

The prince was not asleep, and as he lay awake moaning over
all the sad events which had separated him from his wife,
he thought he heard a knock at the garden door. He went to
open it, and was immediately seized by the captain and sailors,
who without a word of explanation forcibly bore him off to
the boat, which took them back to the ship without loss of time.
No sooner were they on board than they weighed anchor and set sail.

Camaralzaman, who had kept silence till then, now asked the captain
(whom he had recognised) the reason for this abduction.

"Are you not a debtor of the King of the Ebony Island?" asked the captain.

"I? Why, I never even heard of him before, and never set foot
in his kingdom!" was the answer.

"Well, you must know better than I," said the captain. "You will soon
see him now, and meantime be content where you are and have patience."

The return voyage was as prosperous as the former one, and though
it was night when the ship entered the harbour, the captain lost no
time in landing with his passenger, whom he conducted to the palace,
where he begged an audience with the king.

Directly the Princess Badoura saw the prince she recognised him in
spite of his shabby clothes. She longed to throw herself on his neck,
but restrained herself, feeling it was better for them both that
she should play her part a little longer. She therefore desired
one of her officers to take care of him and to treat him well.
Next she ordered another officer to remove the seals from the warehouse,
whilst she presented the captain with a costly diamond, and told
him to keep the thousand pieces of gold paid for the olives,
as she would arrange matters with the merchant himself.

She then returned to her private apartments, where she told the
Princess Haiatelnefous all that had happened, as well as her plans for
the future, and begged her assistance, which her friend readily promised.

Next morning she ordered the prince to be taken to the bath and
clothed in a manner suitable to an emir or governor of a province.
He was then introduced to the council, where his good looks and grand
air drew the attention of all on him.

Princess Badoura, delighted to see him looking himself once more,
turned to the other emirs, saying:

"My lords, I introduce to you a new colleague, Camaralzaman, whom I
have known on my travels and who, I can assure you, you will find
well deserves your regard and admiration."

Camaralzaman was much surprised at hearing the king--whom he never
suspected of being a woman in disguise--asserting their acquaintance,
for he felt sure he had never seen her before. However he
received all the praises bestowed on him with becoming modesty,
and prostrating himself, said:

"Sire, I cannot find words in which to thank your Majesty
for the great honour conferred on me. I can but assure
you that I will do all in my power to prove myself worthy of it."

On leaving the council the prince was conducted to a splendid house
which had been prepared for him, where he found a full establishment
and well-filled stables at his orders. On entering his study his
steward presented him with a coffer filled with gold pieces for his
current expenses. He felt more and more puzzled by such good fortune,
and little guessed that the Princess of China was the cause of it.

After a few days the Princess Badoura promoted Camaralzaman to the
post of grand treasurer, an office which he filled with so much
integrity and benevolence as to win universal esteem.

He would now have thought himself the happiest of men had it not
been for that separation which he never ceased to bewail. He had
no clue to the mystery of his present position, for the princess,
out of compliment to the old king, had taken his name, and was
generally known as King Armanos the younger, few people remembering
that on her first arrival she went by another name.

At length the princess felt that the time had come to put an end
to her own and the prince's suspense, and having arranged all her
plans with the Princess Haiatelnefous, she informed Camaralzaman
that she wished his advice on some important business, and, to avoid
being disturbed, desired him to come to the palace that evening.

The prince was punctual, and was received in the private apartment,
when, having ordered her attendants to withdraw, the princess took
from a small box the talisman, and, handing it to Camaralzaman,
said: "Not long ago an astrologer gave me this talisman. As you
are universally well informed, you can perhaps tell me what is its use."

Camaralzaman took the talisman and, holding it to the light,
cried with surprise, "Sire, you ask me the use of this talisman.
Alas! hitherto it has been only a source of misfortune to me,
being the cause of my separation from the one I love best on earth.
The story is so sad and strange that I am sure your Majesty will be
touched by it if you will permit me to tell it you."

"I will hear it some other time," replied the princess.
"Meanwhile I fancy it is not quite unknown to me. Wait here for me.
I will return shortly."

So saying she retired to another room, where she hastily changed
her masculine attire for that of a woman, and, after putting on
the girdle she wore the day they parted, returned to Camaralzaman.

The prince recognised her at once, and, embracing her with the
utmost tenderness, cried, "Ah, how can I thank the king for this
delightful surprise?"

"Do not expect ever to see the king again," said the princess,
as she wiped the tears of joy from her eyes, "in me you see the king.
Let us sit down, and I will tell you all about it."

She then gave a full account of all her adventures since their parting,
and dwelt much on the charms and noble disposition of the
Princess Haiatelnefous, to whose friendly assistance she owed
so much. When she had done she asked to hear the prince's story,
and in this manner they spent most of the night.

Next morning the princess resumed her woman's clothes, and as soon
as she was ready she desired the chief eunuch to beg King Armanos
to come to her apartments.

When the king arrived great was his surprise at finding a strange
lady in company of the grand treasurer who had no actual right to
enter the private apartment. Seating himself he asked for the king.

"Sire," said the princess, "yesterday I was the king, to-day I am
only the Princess of China and wife to the real Prince Camaralzaman,
son of King Schahzaman, and I trust that when your Majesty shall
have heard our story you will not condemn the innocent deception I
have been obliged to practise."

The king consented to listen, and did so with marked surprise.

At the close of her narrative the princess said, "Sire, as our religion
allows a man to have more than one wife, I would beg your Majesty
to give your daughter, the Princess Haiatelnefous, in marriage
to Prince Camaralzaman. I gladly yield to her the precedence and
title of Queen in recognition of the debt of gratitude which I owe her."

King Armanos heard the princess with surprise and admiration,
then, turning to Camaralzaman, he said, "My son, as your wife,
the Princess Badoura (whom I have hitherto looked on as my son-in-law),
consents to share your hand and affections with my daughter,
I have only to ask if this marriage is agreeable to you, and if you
will consent to accept the crown which the Princess Badoura deserves
to wear all her life, but which she prefers to resign for love of you."

"Sire," replied Camaralzaman, "I can refuse your Majesty nothing."

Accordingly Camaralzaman was duly proclaimed king, and as duly
married with all pomp to the Princess Haiatelnefous, with whose
beauty, talents, and affections he had every reason to be pleased.

The two queens lived in true sisterly harmony together, and after
a time each presented King Camaralzaman with a son, whose births
were celebrated throughout the kingdom with the utmost rejoicing.



Noureddin and the Fair Persian


Balsora was the capital of a kingdom long tributary to the caliph.
During the time of the Caliph Haroun-al-Raschid the king of Balsora,
who was his cousin, was called Zinebi. Not thinking one vizir enough
for the administration of his estates he had two, named Khacan
and Saouy.

Khacan was kind, generous, and liberal, and took pleasure
in obliging, as far as in him lay, those who had business with him.
Throughout the entire kingdom there was no one who did not esteem
and praise him as he deserved.

Saouy was quite a different character, and repelled everyone with
whom he came in contact; he was always gloomy, and, in spite of his
great riches, so miserly that he denied himself even the necessaries
of life. What made him particularly detested was the great aversion
he had to Khacan, of whom he never ceased to speak evil to the king.

One day, while the king amused himself talking with his two
vizirs and other members of the council, the conversation turned
on female slaves. While some declared that it sufficed for a
slave to be beautiful, others, and Khacan was among the number,
maintained that beauty alone was not enough, but that it must
be accompanied by wit, wisdom, modesty, and, if possible, knowledge.

The king not only declared himself to be of this opinion, but charged
Khacan to procure him a slave who should fulfil all these conditions.
Saouy, who had been of the opposite side, and was jealous of the
honour done to Khacan, said, "Sire, it will be very difficult to find
a slave as accomplished as your Majesty desires, and, if she is
to be found, she will be cheap if she cost less than 10,000 gold pieces."

"Saouy," answered the king, "you seem to find that a very great sum.
For you it may be so, but not for me."

And forthwith he ordered his grand treasurer, who was present,
to send 10,000 gold pieces to Khacan for the purchase of the slave.

As soon, then, as Khacan returned home he sent for the dealers in
female slaves, and charged them directly they had found such a one
as he described to inform him. They promised to do their utmost,
and no day passed that they did not bring a slave for his inspection
but none was found without some defect.

At length, early one morning, while Khacan was on his way to the
king's palace, a dealer, throwing himself in his way, announced eagerly
that a Persian merchant, arrived late the previous evening, had a
slave to sell whose wit and wisdom were equal to her incomparable beauty.

Khacan, overjoyed at this news, gave orders that the slave should
be brought for his inspection on his return from the palace.
The dealer appearing at the appointed hour, Khacan found the slave
beautiful beyond his expectations, and immediately gave her the name
of "The Fair Persian."

Being a man of great wisdom and learning, he perceived in the short
conversation he had with her that he would seek in vain another
slave to surpass her in any of the qualities required by the king,
and therefore asked the dealer what price the merchant put upon her.

"Sir," was the answer, "for less than 10,000 gold pieces he will not
let her go; he declares that, what with masters for her instruction,
and for bodily exercises, not to speak of clothing and nourishment,
he has already spent that sum upon her. She is in every way fit to be
the slave of a king; she plays every musical instrument, she sings,
she dances, she makes verses, in fact there is no accomplishment
in which she does not excel."

Khacan, who was better able to judge of her merits than the dealer,
wishing to bring the matter to a conclusion, sent for the merchant,
and said to him, "It is not for myself that I wish to buy your slave,
but for the king. Her price, however, is too high."

"Sir," replied the merchant, "I should esteem it an honour to present
her to his Majesty, did it become a merchant to do such a thing.
I ask no more than the sum it has cost me to make her such as she is."

Khacan, not wishing to bargain, immediately had the sum counted out,
and given to the merchant, who before withdrawing said:

"Sir, as she is destined for the king, I would have you observe
that she is extremely tired with the long journey, and before
presenting her to his Majesty you would do well to keep her
a fortnight in your own house, and to see that a little care is
bestowed upon her. The sun has tanned her complexion, but when she
has been two or three times to the bath, and is fittingly dressed,
you will see how much her beauty will be increased."

Khacan thanked the merchant for his advice, and determined to follow it.
He gave the beautiful Persian an apartment near to that of his wife,
whom he charged to treat her as befitting a lady destined for the king,
and to order for her the most magnificent garments.

Before bidding adieu to the fair Persian, he said to her:
"No happiness can be greater than what I have procured for you;
judge for yourself, you now belong to the king. I have, however, to warn
you of one thing. I have a son, who, though not wanting in sense,
is young, foolish, and headstrong, and I charge you to keep him
at a distance."

The Persian thanked him for his advice, and promised to profit
by it.

Noureddin--for so the vizir's son was named--went freely in and out
of his mother's apartments. He was young, well-made and agreeable,
and had the gift of charming all with whom he came in contact.
As soon as he saw the beautiful Persian, though aware that she was
destined for the king, he let himself be carried away by her charms,
and determined at once to use every means in his power to retain
her for himself. The Persian was equally captivated by Noureddin,
and said to herself: "The vizir does me too great honour in buying me
for the king. I should esteem myself very happy if he would give me
to his son."

Noureddin availed himself of every opportunity to gaze upon her beauty,
to talk and laugh with her, and never would have left her side
if his mother had not forced him.

Some time having elapsed, on account of the long journey, since the
beautiful Persian had been to the bath, five or six days after her
purchase the vizir's wife gave orders that the bath should be heated
for her, and that her own female slaves should attend her there,
and after-wards should array her in a magnificent dress that had
been prepared for her.

Her toilet completed, the beautiful Persian came to present herself
to the vizir's wife, who hardly recognised her, so greatly was her
beauty increased. Kissing her hand, the beautiful slave said:
"Madam, I do not know how you find me in this dress that you
have had prepared for me; your women assure me that it suits me
so well that they hardly knew me. If it is the truth they tell me,
and not flattery, it is to you I owe the transformation."

"My daughter," answered the vizir's wife, "they do not flatter you.
I myself hardly recognised you. The improvement is not due to the
dress alone, but largely to the beautifying effects of the bath.
I am so struck by its results, that I would try it on myself."

Acting forthwith on this decision she ordered two little slaves
during her absence to watch over the beautiful Persian, and not
to allow Noureddin to enter should he come.

She had no sooner gone than he arrived, and not finding his mother
in her apartment, would have sought her in that of the Persian.
The two little slaves barred the entrance, saying that his mother had
given orders that he was not to be admitted. Taking each by an arm,
he put them out of the anteroom, and shut the door. Then they
rushed to the bath, informing their mistress with shrieks and tears
that Noureddin had driven them away by force and gone in.

This news caused great consternation to the lady, who, dressing
herself as quickly as possible, hastened to the apartment of
the fair Persian, to find that Noureddin had already gone out.
Much astonished to see the vizir's wife enter in tears,
the Persian asked what misfortune had happened.

"What!" exclaimed the lady, "you ask me that, knowing that my son
Noureddin has been alone with you?"

"But, madam," inquired the Persian, "what harm is there in that?"

"How! Has my husband not told you that you are destined for the king?"

"Certainly, but Noureddin has just been to tell me that his father
has changed his mind and has bestowed me upon him. I believed him,
and so great is my affection for Noureddin that I would willingly
pass my life with him."

"Would to heaven," exclaimed the wife of the vizir, "that what you
say were true; but Noureddin has deceived you, and his father
will sacrifice him in vengeance for the wrong he has done."

So saying, she wept bitterly, and all her slaves wept with her.

Khacan, entering shortly after this, was much astonished to find his wife
and her slaves in tears, and the beautiful Persian greatly perturbed.
He inquired the cause, but for some time no answer was forthcoming.
When his wife was at length sufficiently calm to inform him
of what had happened, his rage and mortification knew no bounds.
Wringing his hands and rending his beard, he exclaimed:

"Wretched son! thou destroyest not only thyself but thy father.
The king will shed not only thy blood but mine." His wife tried
to console him, saying: "Do not torment thyself. With the sale
of my jewels I will obtain 10,000 gold pieces, and with this sum you
will buy another slave."

"Do not suppose," replied her husband, "that it is the loss of the money
that affects me. My honour is at stake, and that is more precious
to me than all my wealth. You know that Saouy is my mortal enemy.
He will relate all this to the king, and you will see the consequences
that will ensue."

"My lord," said his wife, "I am quite aware of Saouy's baseness,
and that he is capable of playing you this malicious trick.
But how can he or any one else know what takes place in this house?
Even if you are suspected and the king accuses you, you have only
to say that, after examining the slave, you did not find her worthy
of his Majesty. Reassure yourself, and send to the dealers,
saying that you are not satisfied, and wish them to find you
another slave."

This advice appearing reasonable, Khacan decided to follow it,
but his wrath against his son did not abate. Noureddin dared
not appear all that day, and fearing to take refuge with his
usual associates in case his father should seek him there,
he spent the day in a secluded garden where he was not known.
He did not return home till after his father had gone to bed,
and went out early next morning before the vizir awoke, and these
precautions he kept up during an entire month.

His mother, though knowing very well that he returned to the house
every evening, dare not ask her husband to pardon him. At length
she took courage and said:

"My lord, I know that a son could not act more basely towards
his father than Noureddin has done towards you, but after
all will you now pardon him? Do you not consider the harm
you may be doing yourself, and fear that malicious people,
seeking the cause of your estrangement, may guess the real one?"

"Madam," replied the vizir, "what you say is very just, but I cannot
pardon Noureddin before I have mortified him as he deserves."

"He will be sufficiently punished," answered the lady, "if you do
as I suggest. In the evening, when he returns home, lie in wait
for him and pretend that you will slay him. I will come to his aid,
and while pointing out that you only yield his life at my supplications,
you can force him to take the beautiful Persian on any conditions
you please." Khacan agreed to follow this plan, and everything
took place as arranged. On Noureddin's return Khacan pretended
to be about to slay him, but yielding to his wife's intercession,
said to his son:

"You owe your life to your mother. I pardon you on her intercession,
and on the conditions that you take the beautiful Persian for your wife,
and not your slave, that you never sell her, nor put her away."

Noureddin, not hoping for so great indulgence, thanked his father,
and vowed to do as he desired. Khacan was at great pains frequently
to speak to the king of the difficulties attending the commission he
had given him, but some whispers of what had actually taken place
did reach Saouy's ears.

More than a year after these events the minister took a chill,
leaving the bath while still heated to go out on important business.
This resulted in inflammation of the lungs, which rapidly increased.
The vizir, feeling that his end was at hand, sent for Noureddin,
and charged him with his dying breath never to part with the
beautiful Persian.

Shortly afterwards he expired, leaving universal regret throughout
the kingdom; rich and poor alike followed him to the grave.
Noureddin showed every mark of the deepest grief at his father's death,
and for long refused to see any one. At length a day came when,
one of his friends being admitted, urged him strongly to be consoled,
and to resume his former place in society. This advice Noureddin
was not slow to follow, and soon he formed little society of ten
young men all about his own age, with whom he spent all his time in
continual feasting and merry-making.

Sometimes the fair Persian consented to appear at these festivities,
but she disapproved of this lavish expenditure, and did not scruple
to warn Noureddin of the probable consequences. He, however, only
laughed at her advice, saying, that his father had always kept him in
too great constraint, and that now he rejoiced at his new-found liberty.

What added to the confusion in his affairs was that he refused
to look into his accounts with his steward, sending him away every
time he appeared with his book.

"See only that I live well," he said, "and do not disturb me about
anything else."

Not only did Noureddin's friends constantly partake of his hospitality,
but in every way they took advantage of his generosity; everything of
his that they admired, whether land, houses, baths, or any
other source of his revenue, he immediately bestowed on them.
In vain the Persian protested against the wrong he did himself;
he continued to scatter with the same lavish hand.

Throughout one entire year Noureddin did nothing but amuse himself,
and dissipate the wealth his father had taken such pains to acquire.
The year had barely elapsed, when one day, as they sat at table,
there came a knock at the door. The slaves having been sent away,
Noureddin went to open it himself. One of his friends had risen at
the same time, but Noureddin was before him, and finding the intruder
to be the steward, he went out and closed the door. The friend,
curious to hear what passed between them, hid himself behind the hangings,
and heard the following words:

"My lord," said the steward, "I beg a thousand pardons for
interrupting you, but what I have long foreseen has taken place.
Nothing remains of the sums you gave me for your expenses, and all
other sources of income are also at end, having been transferred
by you to others. If you wish me to remain in your service,
furnish me with the necessary funds, else I must withdraw."

So great was Noureddin's consternation that he had not a word
to say in reply.

The friend, who had been listening behind the curtain, immediately
hastened to communicate the news to the rest of the company.

"If this is so," they said, "we must cease to come here."

Noureddin re-entering at that moment, they plainly saw, in spite
of his efforts to dissemble, that what they had heard was the truth.
One by one they rose, and each with a different excuse left the room,
till presently he found himself alone, though little suspecting the
resolution his friends had taken. Then, seeing the beautiful Persian,
he confided to her the statement of the steward, with many expressions
of regret for his own carelessness.

"Had I but followed your advice, beautiful Persian," he said,
"all this would not have happened, but at least I have this consolation,
that I have spent my fortune in the company of friends who will
not desert me in an hour of need. To-morrow I will go to them,
and amongst them they will lend me a sum sufficient to start
in some business."

Accordingly next morning early Noureddin went to seek his ten friends,
who all lived in the same street. Knocking at the door of the first
and chief, the slave who opened it left him to wait in a hall while
he announced his visit to his master. "Noureddin!" he heard him
exclaim quite audibly. "Tell him, every time he calls, that I am
not at home." The same thing happened at the second door, and also at
the third, and so on with all the ten. Noureddin, much mortified,
recognised too late that he had confided in false friends,
who abandoned him in his hour of need. Overwhelmed with grief,
he sought consolation from the beautiful Persian.

"Alas, my lord," she said, "at last you are convinced of the truth
of what I foretold. There is now no other resource left but to sell
your slaves and your furniture."

First then he sold the slaves, and subsisted for a time on the proceeds,
after that the furniture was sold, and as much of it was valuable it
sufficed for some time. Finally this resource also came to an end,
and again he sought counsel from the beautiful Persian.

"My lord," she said, "I know that the late vizir, your father,
bought me for 10,000 gold pieces, and though I have diminished
in value since, I should still fetch a large sum. Do not therefore
hesitate to sell me, and with the money you obtain go and establish
yourself in business in some distant town."

"Charming Persian," answered Noureddin, "how could I be guilty
of such baseness? I would die rather than part from you whom
I love better than my life."

"My lord," she replied, "I am well aware of your love for me,
which is only equalled by mine for you, but a cruel necessity
obliges us to seek the only remedy."

Noureddin, convinced at length of the truth of her words, yielded,
and reluctantly led her to the slave market, where, showing her
to a dealer named Hagi Hassan, he inquired her value.

Taking them into a room apart, Hagi Hassan exclaimed as soon as she
had unveiled, "My lord, is not this the slave your father bought
for 10,000 pieces?"

On learning that it was so, he promised to obtain the highest possible
price for her. Leaving the beautiful Persian shut up in the room alone,
he went out to seek the slave merchants, announcing to them that he
had found the pearl among slaves, and asking them to come and put
a value upon her. As soon as they saw her they agreed that less
than 4,000 gold pieces could not be asked. Hagi Hassan, then closing
the door upon her, began to offer her for sale--calling out:
"Who will bid 4,000 gold pieces for the Persian slave?"

Before any of the merchants had bid, Saouy happened to pass that way,
and judging that it must be a slave of extraordinary beauty, rode up
to Hagi Hassan and desired to see her. Now it was not the custom
to show a slave to a private bidder, but as no one dared to disobey
the vizir his request was granted.

As soon as Saouy saw the Persian he was so struck by her beauty,
that he immediately wished to possess her, and not knowing that she
belonged to Noureddin, he desired Hagi Hassan to send for the owner
and to conclude the bargain at once.

Hagi Hassan then sought Noureddin, and told him that his slave
was going far below her value, and that if Saouy bought her he
was capable of not paying the money. "What you must do," he said,
"is to pretend that you had no real intention of selling your slave,
and only swore you would in a fit of anger against her. When I
present her to Saouy as if with your consent you must step in,
and with blows begin to lead her away."

Noureddin did as Hagi Hassan advised, to the great wrath of Saouy,
who riding straight at him endeavoured to take the beautiful Persian
from him by force. Noureddin letting her go, seized Saouy's horse
by the bridle, and, encouraged by the applause of the bystanders,
dragged him to the ground, beat him severely, and left him in the
gutter streaming with blood. Then, taking the beautiful Persian,
he returned home amidst the acclamations of the people, who detested
Saouy so much that they would neither interfere in his behalf nor
allow his slaves to protect him.

Covered from head to foot with mire and streaming with blood he rose,
and leaning on two of his slaves went straight to the palace,
where he demanded an audience of the king, to whom he related what
had taken place in these words:

"May it please your Majesty, I had gone to the slave market to buy myself
a cook. While there I heard a slave being offered for 4,000 pieces.
Asking to see her, I found she was of incomparable beauty,
and was being sold by Noureddin, the son of your late vizir,
to whom your Majesty will remember giving a sum of 10,000 gold
pieces for the purchase of a slave. This is the identical slave,
whom instead of bringing to your Majesty he gave to his own son.
Since the death of his father this Noureddin has run through his
entire fortune, has sold all his possessions, and is now reduced
to selling the slave. Calling him to me, I said: "Noureddin, I
will give you 10,000 gold pieces for your slave, whom I will present
to the king. I will interest him at the same time in your behalf,
and this will be worth much more to you than what extra money you
might obtain from the merchants." "Bad old man," he exclaimed,
"rather than sell my slave to you I would give her to a Jew."
"But, Noureddin," I remonstrated, "you do not consider that in speaking
thus you wrong the king, to whom your father owed everything."
This remonstrance only irritated him the more. Throwing himself on me
like a madman, he tore me from my horse, beat me to his heart's content,
and left me in the state your Majesty sees."

So saying Saouy turned aside his head and wept bitterly.

The king's wrath was kindled against Noureddin. He ordered the captain
of the guard to take with him forty men, to pillage Noureddin's house,
to rase it to the ground, and to bring Noureddin and the slave to him.
A doorkeeper, named Sangiar, who had been a slave of Khacan's,
hearing this order given, slipped out of the king's apartment,
and hastened to warn Noureddin to take flight instantly with the
beautiful Persian. Then, presenting him with forty gold pieces,
he disappeared before Noureddin had time to thank him.

As soon, then, as the fair Persian had put on her veil they
fled together, and had the good fortune to get out of the town
without being observed. At the mouth of the Euphrates they
found a ship just about to start for Bagdad. They embarked,
and immediately the anchor was raised and they set sail.

When the captain of the guard reached Noureddin's house he caused his
soldiers to burst open the door and to enter by force, but no trace was
to be found of Noureddin and his slave, nor could the neighbours give
any information about them. When the king heard that they had escaped,
he issued a proclamation that a reward of 1,000 gold pieces would be
given to whoever would bring him Noureddin and the slave, but that,
on the contrary, whoever hid them would be severely punished.
Meanwhile Noureddin and the fair Persian had safely reached Bagdad.
When the vessel had come to an anchor they paid five gold pieces for
their passage and went ashore. Never having been in Bagdad before,
they did not know where to seek a lodging. Wandering along the banks
of the Tigris, they skirted a garden enclosed by a high wall.
The gate was shut, but in front of it was an open vestibule with a sofa
on either side. "Here," said Noureddin, "let us pass the night,"
and reclining on the sofas they soon fell asleep.

Now this garden belonged to the Caliph. In the middle of it was
a vast pavilion, whose superb saloon had eighty windows, each window
having a lustre, lit solely when the Caliph spent the evening there.
Only the door-keeper lived there, an old soldier named Scheih Ibrahim,
who had strict orders to be very careful whom he admitted,
and never to allow any one to sit on the sofas by the door.
It happened that evening that he had gone out on an errand.
When he came back and saw two persons asleep on the sofas he was
about to drive them out with blows, but drawing nearer he perceived
that they were a handsome young man and beautiful young woman,
and decided to awake them by gentler means. Noureddin, on being awoke,
told the old man that they were strangers, and merely wished to pass
the night there. "Come with me," said Scheih Ibrahim, "I will lodge
you better, and will show you a magnificent garden belonging to me."
So saying the doorkeeper led the way into the Caliph's garden,
the beauties of which filled them with wonder and amazement.
Noureddin took out two gold pieces, and giving them to Scheih Ibrahim
said

"I beg you to get us something to eat that we may make merry together."
Being very avaricious, Scheih Ibrahim determined to spend only
the tenth part of the money and to keep the rest to himself.
While he was gone Noureddin and the Persian wandered through the
gardens and went up the white marble staircase of the pavilion as far
as the locked door of the saloon. On the return of Scheih Ibrahim
they begged him to open it, and to allow them to enter and admire
the magnificence within. Consenting, he brought not only the key,
but a light, and immediately unlocked the door. Noureddin and the
Persian entering, were dazzled with the magnificence they beheld.
The paintings and furniture were of astonishing beauty, and between
each window was a silver arm holding a candle.

Scheih Ibrahim spread the table in front of a sofa, and all
three ate together. When they had finished eating Noureddin
asked the old man to bring them a bottle of wine.

"Heaven forbid," said Scheih Ibrahim, "that I should come in contact
with wine! I who have four times made the pilgrimage to Mecca,
and have renounced wine for ever."

"You would, however, do us a great service in procuring
us some," said Noureddin. "You need not touch it yourself.
Take the ass which is tied to the gate, lead it to the nearest
wine-shop, and ask some passer-by to order two jars of wine;
have them put in the ass's panniers, and drive him before you.
Here are two pieces of gold for the expenses."

At sight of the gold, Scheih Ibrahim set off at once to execute
the commission. On his return, Noureddin said: "We have still need
of cups to drink from, and of fruit, if you can procure us some."
Scheih Ibrahim disappeared again, and soon returned with a table spread
with cups of gold and silver, and every sort of beautiful fruit.
Then he withdrew, in spite of repeated invitations to remain.

Noureddin and the beautiful Persian, finding the wine excellent,
drank of it freely, and while drinking they sang. Both had fine
voices, and Scheih Ibrahim listened to them with great pleasure--
first from a distance, then he drew nearer, and finally put his
head in at the door. Noureddin, seeing him, called to him to come
in and keep them company. At first the old man declined, but was
persuaded to enter the room, to sit down on the edge of the sofa
nearest the door, and at last to draw closer and to seat himself
by the beautiful Persian, who urged him so persistently to drink
her health that at length he yielded, and took the cup she offered.

Now the old man only made a pretence of renouncing wine;
he frequented wine-shops like other people, and had taken none
of the precautions Noureddin had proposed. Having once yielded,
he was easily persuaded to take a second cup, and a third,
and so on till he no longer knew what he was doing. Till near
midnight they continued drinking, laughing, and singing together.

About that time the Persian, perceiving that the room was lit
by only one miserable tallow candle, asked Scheih Ibrahim to light
some of the beautiful candles in the silver arms.

"Light them yourself," answered the old man; "you are younger than I,
but let five or six be enough."

She did not stop, however, till she had lit all the eighty, but Scheih
Ibrahim was not conscious of this, and when, soon after that,
Noureddin proposed to have some of the lustres lit, he answered:

"You are more capable of lighting them than I, but not more than three."

Noureddin, far from contenting himself with three, lit all,
and opened all the eighty windows.

The Caliph Haroun-al-Raschid, chancing at that moment to open
a window in the saloon of his palace looking on the garden,
was surprised to see the pavilion brilliantly illuminated.
Calling the grand-vizir, Giafar, he said to him:

"Negligent vizir, look at the pavilion, and tell me why it is lit
up when I am not there."

When the vizir saw that it was as the Caliph said, he trembled
with fear, and immediately invented an excuse.

"Commander of the Faithful," he said, "I must tell you that four
or five days ago Scheih Ibrahim told me that he wished to have
an assembly of the ministers of his mosque, and asked permission
to hold it in the pavilion. I granted his request, but forgot
since to mention it to your Majesty."

"Giafar," replied the Caliph, "you have committed three faults--
first, in giving the permission; second, in not mentioning it
to me; and third, in not investigating the matter more closely.
For punishment I condemn you to spend the rest of the night with me
in company of these worthy people. While I dress myself as a citizen,
go and disguise yourself, and then come with me."

When they reached the garden gate they found it open, to the great
indignation of the Caliph. The door of the pavilion being also open,
he went softly upstairs, and looked in at the half-closed door
of the saloon. Great was his surprise to see Scheih Ibrahim,
whose sobriety he had never doubted, drinking and singing with a young
man and a beautiful lady. The Caliph, before giving way to his anger,
determined to watch and see who the people were and what they did.

Presently Scheih Ibrahim asked the beautiful Persian if anything
were wanting to complete her enjoyment of the evening.

"If only," she said, "I had an instrument upon which I might play."

Scheih Ibrahim immediately took a lute from a cup-board and gave
it to the Persian, who began to play on it, singing the while
with such skill and taste that the Caliph was enchanted.
When she ceased he went softly downstairs and said to the vizir:

"Never have I heard a finer voice, nor the lute better played.
I am determined to go in and make her play to me."

"Commander of the Faithful," said the vizir, "if Scheih Ibrahim
recognises you he will die of fright."

"I should be sorry for that," answered the Caliph, "and I am going
to take steps to prevent it. Wait here till I return."

Now the Caliph had caused a bend in the river to form a lake in
his garden. There the finest fish in the Tigris were to be found,
but fishing was strictly forbidden. It happened that night,
however, that a fisherman had taken advantage of the gate being
open to go in and cast his nets. He was just about to draw them
when he saw the Caliph approaching. Recognising him at once in spite
of his disguise, he threw himself at his feet imploring forgiveness.

"Fear nothing," said the Caliph, "only rise up and draw thy nets."

The fisherman did as he was told, and produced five or six fine fish,
of which the Caliph took the two largest. Then he desired the
fisherman to change clothes with him, and in a few minutes the Caliph
was transformed into a fisherman, even to the shoes and the turban.
Taking the two fish in his hand, he returned to the vizir, who,
not recognising him, would have sent him about his business.
Leaving the vizir at the foot of the stairs, the Caliph went up
and knocked at the door of the saloon. Noureddin opened it,
and the Caliph, standing on the threshold, said:

"Scheih Ibrahim, I am the fisher Kerim. Seeing that you are feasting
with your friends, I bring you these fish."

Noureddin and the Persian said that when the fishes were properly
cooked and dressed they would gladly eat of them. The Caliph then
returned to the vizir, and they set to work in Scheih Ibrahim's
house to cook the fish, of which they made so tempting a dish
that Noureddin and the fair Persian ate of it with great relish.
When they had finished Noureddin took thirty gold pieces (all
that remained of what Sangiar had given him) and presented them to
the Caliph, who, thanking him, asked as a further favour if the lady
would play him one piece on the lute. The Persian gladly consented,
and sang and played so as to delight the Caliph.

Noureddin, in the habit of giving to others whatever they admired,
said, "Fisherman, as she pleases you so much, take her; she is yours."

The fair Persian, astounded that he should wish to part from her,
took her lute, and with tears in her eyes sang her reproaches to
its music.

The Caliph (still in the character of fisherman) said to him,
"Sir, I perceive that this fair lady is your slave. Oblige me,
I beg you, by relating your history."

Noureddin willingly granted this request, and recounted everything
from the purchase of the slave down to the present moment.

"And where do you go now?" asked the Caliph.

"Wherever the hand of Allah leads me," said Noureddin.

"Then, if you will listen to me," said the Caliph, "you will
immediately return to Balsora. I will give you a letter to the king,
which will ensure you a good reception from him."

"It is an unheard-of thing," said Noureddin, "that a fisherman
should be in correspondence with a king."

"Let not that astonish you," answered the Caliph; "we studied together,
and have always remained the best of friends, though fortune,
while making him a king, left me a humble fisherman."

The Caliph then took a sheet of paper, and wrote the following letter,
at the top of which he put in very small characters this formula
to show that he must be implicitly obeyed:--"In the name of the Most
Merciful God.

"Letter of the Caliph Haroun-al-Raschid to the King of Balsora.

"Haroun-al-Raschid, son of Mahdi, sends this letter to Mohammed Zinebi,
his cousin. As soon as Noureddin, son of the Vizir Khacan,
bearer of this letter, has given it to thee, and thou hast read it,
take off thy royal mantle, put it on his shoulders, and seat him
in thy place without fail. Farewell."

The Caliph then gave this letter to Noureddin, who immediately
set off, with only what little money he possessed when Sangiar
came to his assistance. The beautiful Persian, inconsolable at
his departure, sank on a sofa bathed in tears.

When Noureddin had left the room, Scheih Ibrahim, who had hitherto
kept silence, said: "Kerim, for two miserable fish thou hast
received a purse and a slave. I tell thee I will take the slave,
and as to the purse, if it contains silver thou mayst keep one piece,
if gold then I will take all and give thee what copper pieces I
have in my purse."

Now here it must be related that when the Caliph went upstairs
with the plate of fish he ordered the vizir to hasten to the palace
and bring back four slaves bearing a change of raiment, who should
wait outside the pavilion till the Caliph should clap his hands.

Still personating the fisherman, the Caliph answered:
"Scheih Ibrahim, whatever is in the purse I will share equally
with you, but as to the slave I will keep her for myself.
If you do not agree to these conditions you shall have nothing."

The old man, furious at this insolence as he considered it,
took a cup and threw it at the Caliph, who easily avoided a missile
from the hand of a drunken man. It hit against the wall, and broke
into a thousand pieces. Scheih Ibrahim, still more enraged,
then went out to fetch a stick. The Caliph at that moment clapped
his hands, and the vizir and the four slaves entering took off
the fisherman's dress and put on him that which they had brought.

When Scheih Ibrahim returned, a thick stick in his hand, the Caliph
was seated on his throne, and nothing remained of the fisherman
but his clothes in the middle of the room. Throwing himself on the
ground at the Caliph's feet, he said: "Commander of the Faithful,
your miserable slave has offended you, and craves forgiveness."

The Caliph came down from his throne, and said: "Rise, I forgive thee."
Then turning to the Persian he said: "Fair lady, now you know who
I am; learn also that I have sent Noureddin to Balsora to be king,
and as soon as all necessary preparations are made I will send
you there to be queen. Meanwhile I will give you an apartment
in my palace, where you will be treated with all honour."

At this the beautiful Persian took courage, and the Caliph was as
good as his word, recommending her to the care of his wife Zobeida.

Noureddin made all haste on his journey to Balsora, and on his
arrival there went straight to the palace of the king, of whom he
demanded an audience. It was immediately granted, and holding
the letter high above his head he forced his way through the crowd.
While the king read the letter he changed colour. He would instantly
have executed the Caliph's order, but first he showed the letter
to Saouy, whose interests were equally at stake with his own.
Pretending that he wished to read it a second time, Saouy turned
aside as if to seek a better light; unperceived by anyone he tore
off the formula from the top of the letter, put it to his mouth,
and swallowed it. Then, turning to the king, he said:

"Your majesty has no need to obey this letter. The writing is indeed
that of the Caliph, but the formula is absent. Besides, he has not
sent an express with the patent, without which the letter is useless.
Leave all to me, and I will take the consequences."

The king not only listened to the persuasions of Saouy, but gave
Noureddin into his hands. Such a severe bastinado was first
administered to him, that he was left more dead than alive; then Saouy
threw him into the darkest and deepest dungeon, and fed him only
on bread and water. After ten days Saouy determined to put an end
to Noureddin's life, but dared not without the king's authority.
To gain this end, he loaded several of his own slaves with rich gifts,
and presented himself at their head to the king, saying that they
were from the new king on his coronation.

"What!" said the king; "is that wretch still alive? Go and behead
him at once. I authorise you."

"Sire," said Saouy, "I thank your Majesty for the justice you
do me. I would further beg, as Noureddin publicly affronted me,
that the execution might be in front of the palace, and that it
might be proclaimed throughout the city, so that no one may be
ignorant of it."

The king granted these requests, and the announcement caused
universal grief, for the memory of Noureddin's father was still fresh
in the hearts of his people. Saouy, accompanied by twenty of his
own slaves, went to the prison to fetch Noureddin, whom he mounted on
a wretched horse without a saddle. Arrived at the palace, Saouy went
in to the king, leaving Noureddin in the square, hemmed in not only
by Saouy's slaves but by the royal guard, who had great difficulty
in preventing the people from rushing in and rescuing Noureddin.
So great was the indignation against Saouy that if anyone had set
the example he would have been stoned on his way through the streets.
Saouy, who witnessed the agitation of the people from the windows
of the king's privy chambers, called to the executioner to strike
at once. The king, however, ordered him to delay; not only was
he jealous of Saouy's interference, but he had another reason.
A troop of horsemen was seen at that moment riding at full gallop
towards the square. Saouy suspected who they might be, and urged
the king to give the signal for the execution without delay,
but this the king refused to do till he knew who the horsemen were.

Now, they were the vizir Giafar and his suite arriving at full speed
from Bagdad. For several days after Noureddin's departure with the
letter the Caliph had forgotten to send the express with the patent,
without which the letter was useless. Hearing a beautiful voice
one day in the women's part of the palace uttering lamentations,
he was informed that it was the voice of the fair Persian,
and suddenly calling to mind the patent, he sent for Giafar,
and ordered him to make for Balsora with the utmost speed--
if Noureddin were dead, to hang Saouy; if he were still alive,
to bring him at once to Bagdad along with the king and Saouy.

Giafar rode at full speed through the square, and alighted
at the steps of the palace, where the king came to greet him.
The vizir's first question was whether Noureddin were still alive.
The king replied that he was, and he was immediately led forth,
though bound hand and foot. By the vizir's orders his bonds
were immediately undone, and Saouy was tied with the same cords.
Next day Giafar returned to Bagdad, bearing with him the king, Saouy,
and Noureddin.

When the Caliph heard what treatment Noureddin had received,
he authorised him to behead Saouy with his own hands, but he
declined to shed the blood of his enemy, who was forthwith handed
over to the executioner. The Caliph also desired Noureddin to reign
over Balsora, but this, too, he declined, saying that after what had
passed there he preferred never to return, but to enter the service
of the Caliph. He became one of his most intimate courtiers, and lived
long in great happiness with the fair Persian. As to the king,
the Caliph contented himself with sending him back to Balsora, with the
recommendation to be more careful in future in the choice of his vizir.



Aladdin and the Wonderful Lamp


There once lived a poor tailor, who had a son called Aladdin,
a careless, idle boy who would do nothing but play all day long
in the streets with little idle boys like himself. This so grieved
the father that he died; yet, in spite of his mother's tears
and prayers, Aladdin did not mend his ways. One day, when he
was playing in the streets as usual, a stranger asked him his age,
and if he were not the son of Mustapha the tailor.

"I am, sir," replied Aladdin; "but he died a long while ago."

On this the stranger, who was a famous African magician, fell on his
neck and kissed him, saying: "I am your uncle, and knew you from your
likeness to my brother. Go to your mother and tell her I am coming."

Aladdin ran home, and told his mother of his newly found uncle.

"Indeed, child," she said, "your father had a brother, but I always
thought he was dead."

However, she prepared supper, and bade Aladdin seek his uncle,
who came laden with wine and fruit. He presently fell down and kissed
the place where Mustapha used to sit, bidding Aladdin's mother not
to be surprised at not having seen him before, as he had been forty
years out of the country. He then turned to Aladdin, and asked him
his trade, at which the boy hung his head, while his mother burst
into tears. On learning that Aladdin was idle and would learn no trade,
he offered to take a shop for him and stock it with merchandise.
Next day he bought Aladdin a fine suit of clothes, and took him
all over the city, showing him the sights, and brought him home at
nightfall to his mother, who was overjoyed to see her son so fine.

Next day the magician led Aladdin into some beautiful gardens
a long way outside the city gates. They sat down by a fountain,
and the magician pulled a cake from his girdle, which he divided
between them. They then journeyed onwards till they almost reached
the mountains. Aladdin was so tired that he begged to go back,
but the magician beguiled him with pleasant stories, and led him on
in spite of himself.

At last they came to two mountains divided by a narrow valley.

"We will go no farther," said the false uncle. "I will show you
something wonderful; only do you gather up sticks while I kindle
a fire."

When it was lit the magician threw on it a powder he had about him,
at the same time saying some magical words. The earth trembled a little
and opened in front of them, disclosing a square flat stone with a
brass ring in the middle to raise it by. Aladdin tried to run away,
but the magician caught him and gave him a blow that knocked him down.

"What have I done, uncle?" he said piteously; whereupon the magician
said more kindly: "Fear nothing, but obey me. Beneath this stone
lies a treasure which is to be yours, and no one else may touch it,
so you must do exactly as I tell you."

At the word treasure, Aladdin forgot his fears, and grasped the ring
as he was told, saying the names of his father and grandfather.
The stone came up quite easily and some steps appeared.

"Go down," said the magician; "at the foot of those steps you will find
an open door leading into three large halls. Tuck up your gown and go
through them without touching anything, or you will die instantly.
These halls lead into a garden of fine fruit trees. Walk on till
you come to a niche in a terrace where stands a lighted lamp.
Pour out the oil it contains and bring it to me."

He drew a ring from his finger and gave it to Aladdin,
bidding him prosper.

Aladdin found everything as the magician had said, gathered some
fruit off the trees, and, having got the lamp, arrived at the mouth
of the cave. The magician cried out in a great hurry:

"Make haste and give me the lamp." This Aladdin refused to do until
he was out of the cave. The magician flew into a terrible passion,
and throwing some more powder on the fire, he said something,
and the stone rolled back into its place.

The magician left Persia for ever, which plainly showed that he
was no uncle of Aladdin's, but a cunning magician who had read in
his magic books of a wonderful lamp, which would make him the most
powerful man in the world. Though he alone knew where to find it,
he could only receive it from the hand of another. He had picked
out the foolish Aladdin for this purpose, intending to get the lamp
and kill him afterwards.

For two days Aladdin remained in the dark, crying and lamenting.
At last he clasped his hands in prayer, and in so doing rubbed the ring,
which the magician had forgotten to take from him. Immediately an
enormous and frightful genie rose out of the earth, saying:

"What wouldst thou with me? I am the Slave of the Ring, and will
obey thee in all things."

Aladdin fearlessly replied: "Deliver me from this place!"
whereupon the earth opened, and he found himself outside.
As soon as his eyes could bear the light he went home, but fainted
on the threshold. When he came to himself he told his mother
what had passed, and showed her the lamp and the fruits he had
gathered in the garden, which were in reality precious stones.
He then asked for some food.

"Alas! child," she said, "I have nothing in the house, but I have
spun a little cotton and will go and sell it."

Aladdin bade her keep her cotton, for he would sell the lamp instead.
As it was very dirty she began to rub it, that it might fetch a
higher price. Instantly a hideous genie appeared, and asked what she
would have. She fainted away, but Aladdin, snatching the lamp,
said boldly:

"Fetch me something to eat!"

The genie returned with a silver bowl, twelve silver plates
containing rich meats, two silver cups, and two bottles of wine.
Aladdin's mother, when she came to herself, said:

"Whence comes this splendid feast?"

"Ask not, but eat," replied Aladdin.

So they sat at breakfast till it was dinner-time, and Aladdin
told his mother about the lamp. She begged him to sell it,
and have nothing to do with devils.

"No," said Aladdin, "since chance has made us aware of its virtues,
we will use it and the ring likewise, which I shall always wear
on my finger." When they had eaten all the genie had brought,
Aladdin sold one of the silver plates, and so on till none were left.
He then had recourse to the genie, who gave him another set of plates,
and thus they lived for many years.

One day Aladdin heard an order from the Sultan proclaimed that everyone
was to stay at home and close his shutters while the princess,
his daughter, went to and from the bath. Aladdin was seized by a desire
to see her face, which was very difficult, as she always went veiled.
He hid himself behind the door of the bath, and peeped through
a chink. The princess lifted her veil as she went in, and looked
so beautiful that Aladdin fell in love with her at first sight.
He went home so changed that his mother was frightened. He told her
he loved the princess so deeply that he could not live without her,
and meant to ask her in marriage of her father. His mother,
on hearing this, burst out laughing, but Aladdin at last prevailed
upon her to go before the Sultan and carry his request. She fetched
a napkin and laid in it the magic fruits from the enchanted garden,
which sparkled and shone like the most beautiful jewels. She took
these with her to please the Sultan, and set out, trusting in the lamp.
The grand-vizir and the lords of council had just gone in as she
entered the hall and placed herself in front of the Sultan.
He, however, took no notice of her. She went every day for a week,
and stood in the same place.

When the council broke up on the sixth day the Sultan said
to his vizir: "I see a certain woman in the audience-chamber
every day carrying something in a napkin. Call her next time,
that I may find out what she wants."

Next day, at a sign from the vizir, she went up to the foot of
the throne, and remained kneeling till the Sultan said to her:
"Rise, good woman, and tell me what you want."

She hesitated, so the Sultan sent away all but the vizir, and bade
her speak freely, promising to forgive her beforehand for anything she
might say. She then told him of her son's violent love for the princess.

"I prayed him to forget her," she said, "but in vain; he threatened
to do some desperate deed if I refused to go and ask your Majesty
for the hand of the princess. Now I pray you to forgive not me alone,
but my son Aladdin."

The Sultan asked her kindly what she had in the napkin, whereupon she
unfolded the jewels and presented them.

He was thunderstruck, and turning to the vizir said: "What sayest thou?
Ought I not to bestow the princess on one who values her at such
a price?"

The vizir, who wanted her for his own son, begged the Sultan to withhold
her for three months, in the course of which he hoped his son would
contrive to make him a richer present. The Sultan granted this,
and told Aladdin's mother that, though he consented to the marriage,
she must not appear before him again for three months.

Aladdin waited patiently for nearly three months, but after
two had elapsed his mother, going into the city to buy oil,
found everyone rejoicing, and asked what was going on.

"Do you not know," was the answer, "that the son of the grand-vizir
is to marry the Sultan's daughter to-night?"

Breathless, she ran and told Aladdin, who was overwhelmed at first,
but presently bethought him of the lamp. He rubbed it, and the
genie appeared, saying: "What is thy will?"

Aladdin replied: "The Sultan, as thou knowest, has broken
his promise to me, and the vizir's son is to have the princess.
My command is that to-night you bring hither the bride and bridegroom."

"Master, I obey," said the genie.

Aladdin then went to his chamber, where, sure enough at midnight the
genie transported the bed containing the vizir's son and the princess.

"Take this new-married man," he said, "and put him outside in the cold,
and return at daybreak."

Whereupon the genie took the vizir's son out of bed, leaving Aladdin
with the princess.

"Fear nothing," Aladdin said to her; "you are my wife, promised to
me by your unjust father, and no harm shall come to you."

The princess was too frightened to speak, and passed the most miserable
night of her life, while Aladdin lay down beside her and slept soundly.
At the appointed hour the genie fetched in the shivering bridegroom,
laid him in his place, and transported the bed back to the palace.

Presently the Sultan came to wish his daughter good-morning.
The unhappy vizir's son jumped up and hid himself, while the princess
would not say a word, and was very sorrowful.

The Sultan sent her mother to her, who said: "How comes it,
child, that you will not speak to your father? What has happened?"

The princess sighed deeply, and at last told her mother how,
during the night, the bed had been carried into some strange house,
and what had passed there. Her mother did not believe her in the least,
but bade her rise and consider it an idle dream.

The following night exactly the same thing happened, and next morning,
on the princess's refusing to speak, the Sultan threatened to cut
off her head. She then confessed all, bidding him ask the vizir's
son if it were not so. The Sultan told the vizir to ask his son,
who owned the truth, adding that, dearly as he loved the princess,
he had rather die than go through another such fearful night,
and wished to be separated from her. His wish was granted, and there
was an end of feasting and rejoicing.

When the three months were over, Aladdin sent his mother to remind
the Sultan of his promise. She stood in the same place as before,
and the Sultan, who had forgotten Aladdin, at once remembered him,
and sent for her. On seeing her poverty the Sultan felt less
inclined than ever to keep his word, and asked the vizir's advice,
who counselled him to set so high a value on the princess that no man
living could come up to it.

The Sultan then turned to Aladdin's mother, saying: "Good woman,
a Sultan must remember his promises, and I will remember mine,
but your son must first send me forty basins of gold brimful
of jewels, carried by forty black slaves, led by as many white ones,
splendidly dressed. Tell him that I await his answer." The mother
of Aladdin bowed low and went home, thinking all was lost.

She gave Aladdin the message, adding: "He may wait long enough
for your answer!"

"Not so long, mother, as you think," her son replied "I would
do a great deal more than that for the princess."

He summoned the genie, and in a few moments the eighty slaves arrived,
and filled up the small house and garden.

Aladdin made them set out to the palace, two and two, followed by
his mother. They were so richly dressed, with such splendid jewels
in their girdles, that everyone crowded to see them and the basins
of gold they carried on their heads.

They entered the palace, and, after kneeling before the Sultan,
stood in a half-circle round the throne with their arms crossed,
while Aladdin's mother presented them to the Sultan.

He hesitated no longer, but said: "Good woman, return and tell
your son that I wait for him with open arms."

She lost no time in telling Aladdin, bidding him make haste.
But Aladdin first called the genie.

"I want a scented bath," he said, "a richly embroidered habit,
a horse surpassing the Sultan's, and twenty slaves to attend me.
Besides this, six slaves, beautifully dressed, to wait on my mother;
and lastly, ten thousand pieces of gold in ten purses."

No sooner said than done. Aladdin mounted his horse and passed
through the streets, the slaves strewing gold as they went.
Those who had played with him in his childhood knew him not,
he had grown so handsome.

When the Sultan saw him he came down from his throne, embraced him,
and led him into a hall where a feast was spread, intending to marry
him to the princess that very day.

But Aladdin refused, saying, "I must build a palace fit for her,"
and took his leave.

Once home he said to the genie: "Build me a palace of the
finest marble, set with jasper, agate, and other precious stones.
In the middle you shall build me a large hall with a dome, its four
walls of massy gold and silver, each side having six windows,
whose lattices, all except one, which is to be left unfinished,
must be set with diamonds and rubies. There must be stables and
horses and grooms and slaves; go and see about it!"

The palace was finished by next day, and the genie carried him
there and showed him all his orders faithfully carried out,
even to the laying of a velvet carpet from Aladdin's palace to the
Sultan's. Aladdin's mother then dressed herself carefully, and walked
to the palace with her slaves, while he followed her on horseback.
The Sultan sent musicians with trumpets and cymbals to meet them,
so that the air resounded with music and cheers. She was taken
to the princess, who saluted her and treated her with great honour.
At night the princess said good-bye to her father, and set out
on the carpet for Aladdin's palace, with his mother at her side,
and followed by the hundred slaves. She was charmed at the sight
of Aladdin, who ran to receive her.

"Princess," he said, "blame your beauty for my boldness if I have
displeased you."

She told him that, having seen him, she willingly obeyed her father
in this matter. After the wedding had taken place Aladdin led her
into the hall, where a feast was spread, and she supped with him,
after which they danced till midnight.

Next day Aladdin invited the Sultan to see the palace. On entering
the hall with the four-and-twenty windows, with their rubies,
diamonds, and emeralds, he cried:

"It is a world's wonder! There is only one thing that surprises me.
Was it by accident that one window was left unfinished?"

"No, sir, by design," returned Aladdin. "I wished your Majesty
to have the glory of finishing this palace."

The Sultan was pleased, and sent for the best jewelers in the city.
He showed them the unfinished window, and bade them fit it up like
the others.

"Sir," replied their spokesman, "we cannot find jewels enough."

The Sultan had his own fetched, which they soon used, but to
no purpose, for in a month's time the work was not half done.
Aladdin, knowing that their task was vain, bade them undo their
work and carry the jewels back, and the genie finished the window
at his command. The Sultan was surprised to receive his jewels
again and visited Aladdin, who showed him the window finished.
The Sultan embraced him, the envious vizir meanwhile hinting
that it was the work of enchantment.

Aladdin had won the hearts of the people by his gentle bearing.
He was made captain of the Sultan's armies, and won several battles
for him, but remained modest and courteous as before, and lived thus
in peace and content for several years.

But far away in Africa the magician remembered Aladdin, and by his
magic arts discovered that Aladdin, instead of perishing miserably
in the cave, had escaped, and had married a princess, with whom
he was living in great honour and wealth. He knew that the poor
tailor's son could only have accomplished this by means of the lamp,
and travelled night and day till he reached the capital of China,
bent on Aladdin's ruin. As he passed through the town he heard
people talking everywhere about a marvellous palace.

"Forgive my ignorance," he asked, "what is this palace you speak of?"

"Have you not heard of Prince Aladdin's palace," was the reply,
"the greatest wonder of the world? I will direct you if you have
a mind to see it."

The magician thanked him who spoke, and having seen the palace knew
that it had been raised by the genie of the lamp, and became half
mad with rage. He determined to get hold of the lamp, and again
plunge Aladdin into the deepest poverty.

Unluckily, Aladdin had gone a-hunting for eight days, which gave
the magician plenty of time. He bought a dozen copper lamps, put them
into a basket, and went to the palace, crying: "New lamps for old!"
followed by a jeering crowd.

The princess, sitting in the hall of four-and-twenty windows, sent a
slave to find out what the noise was about, who came back laughing,
so that the princess scolded her.

"Madam," replied the slave, "who can help laughing to see an old
fool offering to exchange fine new lamps for old ones?"

Another slave, hearing
this, said: "There is an old one on the cornice there which he can have."

Now this was the magic lamp, which Aladdin had left there, as he
could not take it out hunting with him. The princess, not knowing
its value, laughingly bade the slave take it and make the exchange.

She went and said to the magician: "Give me a new lamp for this."

He snatched it and bade the slave take her choice, amid the jeers
of the crowd. Little he cared, but left off crying his lamps,
and went out of the city gates to a lonely place, where he remained
till nightfall, when he pulled out the lamp and rubbed it.
The genie appeared, and at the magician's command carried him,
together with the palace and the princess in it, to a lonely place
in Africa.

Next morning the Sultan looked out of the window towards Aladdin's
palace and rubbed his eyes, for it was gone. He sent for the vizir,
and asked what had become of the palace. The vizir looked out too,
and was lost in astonishment. He again put it down to enchantment,
and this time the Sultan believed him, and sent thirty men on horseback
to fetch Aladdin in chains. They met him riding home, bound him,
and forced him to go with them on foot. The people, however,
who loved him, followed, armed, to see that he came to no harm.
He was carried before the Sultan, who ordered the executioner
to cut off his head. The executioner made Aladdin kneel down,
bandaged his eyes, and raised his scimitar to strike.

At that instant the vizir, who saw that the crowd had forced their
way into the courtyard and were scaling the walls to rescue Aladdin,
called to the executioner to stay his hand. The people, indeed,
looked so threatening that the Sultan gave way and ordered Aladdin
to be unbound, and pardoned him in the sight of the crowd.

Aladdin now begged to know what he had done.

"False wretch!" said the Sultan, "come hither," and showed him
from the window the place where his palace had stood.

Aladdin was so amazed that he could not say a word.

"Where is my palace and my daughter?" demanded the Sultan.
"For the first I am not so deeply concerned, but my daughter I
must have, and you must find her or lose your head."

Aladdin begged for forty days in which to find her, promising if he
failed to return and suffer death at the Sultan's pleasure. His prayer
was granted, and he went forth sadly from the Sultan's presence.
For three days he wandered about like a madman, asking everyone
what had become of his palace, but they only laughed and pitied him.
He came to the banks of a river, and knelt down to say his prayers
before throwing himself in. In so doing he rubbed the magic ring he
still wore.

The genie he had seen in the cave appeared, and asked his will.

"Save my life, genie," said Aladdin, "and bring my palace back."

"That is not in my power," said the genie; "I am only the slave
of the ring; you must ask the slave of the lamp."

"Even so," said Aladdin "but thou canst take me to the palace,
and set me down under my dear wife's window." He at once found
himself in Africa, under the window of the princess, and fell asleep
out of sheer weariness.

He was awakened by the singing of the birds, and his heart was lighter.
He saw plainly that all his misfortunes were owing to the loss
of the lamp, and vainly wondered who had robbed him of it.

That morning the princess rose earlier than she had done since she
had been carried into Africa by the magician, whose company she was
forced to endure once a day. She, however, treated him so harshly
that he dared not live there altogether. As she was dressing,
one of her women looked out and saw Aladdin. The princess ran
and opened the window, and at the noise she made Aladdin looked up.
She called to him to come to her, and great was the joy of these
lovers at seeing each other again.

After he had kissed her Aladdin said: "I beg of you, Princess,
in God's name, before we speak of anything else, for your own sake
and mine, tell me what has become of an old lamp I left on the
cornice in the hall of four-and-twenty windows, when I went a-hunting."

"Alas!" she said "I am the innocent cause of our sorrows," and told
him of the exchange of the lamp.

"Now I know," cried Aladdin, "that we have to thank the African
magician for this! Where is the lamp?"

"He carries it about with him," said the princess, "I know, for he
pulled it out of his breast to show me. He wishes me to break
my faith with you and marry him, saying that you were beheaded
by my father's command. He is forever speaking ill of you,
but I only reply by my tears. If I persist, I doubt not that he
will use violence."

Aladdin comforted her, and left her for a while. He changed clothes
with the first person he met in the town, and having bought a certain
powder returned to the princess, who let him in by a little side door.

"Put on your most beautiful dress," he said to her, "and receive
the magician with smiles, leading him to believe that you
have forgotten me. Invite him to sup with you, and say you
wish to taste the wine of his country. He will go for some,
and while he is gone I will tell you what to do."

She listened carefully to Aladdin, and when he left her arrayed
herself gaily for the first time since she left China. She put
on a girdle and head-dress of diamonds, and seeing in a glass
that she looked more beautiful than ever, received the magician,
saying to his great amazement: "I have made up my mind that Aladdin
is dead, and that all my tears will not bring him back to me,
so I am resolved to mourn no more, and have therefore invited you
to sup with me; but I am tired of the wines of China, and would
fain taste those of Africa."

The magician flew to his cellar, and the princess put the powder
Aladdin had given her in her cup. When he returned she asked him
to drink her health in the wine of Africa, handing him her cup
in exchange for his as a sign she was reconciled to him.

Before drinking the magician made her a speech in praise of her beauty,
but the princess cut him short saying:

"Let me drink first, and you shall say what you will afterwards."
She set her cup to her lips and kept it there, while the magician
drained his to the dregs and fell back lifeless.

The princess then opened the door to Aladdin, and flung her arms
round his neck, but Aladdin put her away, bidding her to leave him,
as he had more to do. He then went to the dead magician, took the
lamp out of his vest, and bade the genie carry the palace and all
in it back to China. This was done, and the princess in her chamber
only felt two little shocks, and little thought she was at home again.

The Sultan, who was sitting in his closet, mourning for his
lost daughter, happened to look up, and rubbed his eyes,
for there stood the palace as before! He hastened thither,
and Aladdin received him in the hall of the four-and-twenty windows,
with the princess at his side. Aladdin told him what had happened,
and showed him the dead body of the magician, that he might believe.
A ten days' feast was proclaimed, and it seemed as if Aladdin
might now live the rest of his life in peace; but it was not to be.

The African magician had a younger brother, who was, if possible,
more wicked and more cunning than himself. He travelled to China
to avenge his brother's death, and went to visit a pious woman
called Fatima, thinking she might be of use to him. He entered
her cell and clapped a dagger to her breast, telling her to rise
and do his bidding on pain of death. He changed clothes with her,
coloured his face like hers, put on her veil and murdered her,
that she might tell no tales. Then he went towards the palace
of Aladdin, and all the people thinking he was the holy woman,
gathered round him, kissing his hands and begging his blessing.
When he got to the palace there was such a noise going on round him
that the princess bade her slave look out of the window and ask what
was the matter. The slave said it was the holy woman, curing people
by her touch of their ailments, whereupon the princess, who had long
desired to see Fatima, sent for her. On coming to the princess
the magician offered up a prayer for her health and prosperity.
When he had done the princess made him sit by her, and begged him
to stay with her always. The false Fatima, who wished for nothing
better, consented, but kept his veil down for fear of discovery.
The princess showed him the hall, and asked him what he thought
of it.

"It is truly beautiful," said the false Fatima. "In my mind it
wants but one thing."

"And what is that?" said the princess.

"If only a roc's egg," replied he, "were hung up from the middle
of this dome, it would be the wonder of the world."

After this the princess could think of nothing but a roc's egg,
and when Aladdin returned from hunting he found her in a very
ill humour. He begged to know what was amiss, and she told
him that all her pleasure in the hall was spoilt for the want
of a roc's egg hanging from the dome.

"It that is all," replied Aladdin, "you shall soon be happy."

He left her and rubbed the lamp, and when the genie appeared
commanded him to bring a roc's egg. The genie gave such a loud
and terrible shriek that the hall shook.

"Wretch!" he cried, "is it not enough that I have done everything
for you, but you must command me to bring my master and hang him
up in the midst of this dome? You and your wife and your palace
deserve to be burnt to ashes; but this request does not come from you,
but from the brother of the African magician whom you destroyed.
He is now in your palace disguised as the holy woman--whom he murdered.
He it was who put that wish into your wife's head. Take care of yourself,
for he means to kill you." So saying the genie disappeared.

Aladdin went back to the princess, saying his head ached, and requesting
that the holy Fatima should be fetched to lay her hands on it.
But when the magician came near, Aladdin, seizing his dagger,
pierced him to the heart.

"What have you done?" cried the princess. "You have killed
the holy woman!"

"Not so," replied Aladdin, "but a wicked magician," and told her
of how she had been deceived.

After this Aladdin and his wife lived in peace. He succeeded
the Sultan when he died, and reigned for many years, leaving behind
him a long line of kings.



The Adventures of Haroun-al-Raschid, Caliph of Bagdad


The Caliph Haroun-al-Raschid sat in his palace, wondering if there was
anything left in the world that could possibly give him a few hours'
amusement, when Giafar the grand-vizir, his old and tried friend,
suddenly appeared before him. Bowing low, he waited, as was his duty,
till his master spoke, but Haroun-al-Raschid merely turned his
head and looked at him, and sank back into his former weary posture.

Now Giafar had something of importance to say to the Caliph,
and had no intention of being put off by mere silence, so with
another low bow in front of the throne, he began to speak.

"Commander of the Faithful," said he, "I have taken on myself to
remind your Highness that you have undertaken secretly to observe
for yourself the manner in which justice is done and order is kept
throughout the city. This is the day you have set apart to devote
to this object, and perhaps in fulfilling this duty you may find
some distraction from the melancholy to which, as I see to my sorrow,
you are a prey."

"You are right," returned the Caliph, "I had forgotten all about it.
Go and change your coat, and I will change mine."

A few moments later they both re-entered the hall, disguised as
foreign merchants, and passed through a secret door, out into the
open country. Here they turned towards the Euphrates, and crossing
the river in a small boat, walked through that part of the town
which lay along the further bank, without seeing anything to call
for their interference. Much pleased with the peace and good order
of the city, the Caliph and his vizir made their way to a bridge,
which led straight back to the palace, and had already crossed it,
when they were stopped by an old and blind man, who begged for alms.

The Caliph gave him a piece of money, and was passing on,
but the blind man seized his hand, and held him fast.

"Charitable person," he said, "whoever you may be grant me yet
another prayer. Strike me, I beg of you, one blow. I have deserved
it richly, and even a more severe penalty."

The Caliph, much surprised at this request, replied gently:
"My good man, that which you ask is impossible. Of what use would
my alms be if I treated you so ill?" And as he spoke he tried
to loosen the grasp of the blind beggar.

"My lord," answered the man, "pardon my boldness and my persistence.
Take back your money, or give me the blow which I crave.
I have sworn a solemn oath that I will receive nothing without
receiving chastisement, and if you knew all, you would feel that
the punishment is not a tenth part of what I deserve."

Moved by these words, and perhaps still more by the fact that he
had other business to attend to, the Caliph yielded, and struck him
lightly on the shoulder. Then he continued his road, followed by
the blessing of the blind man. When they were out of earshot,
he said to the vizir, "There must be something very odd to make
that man act so--I should like to find out what is the reason.
Go back to him; tell him who I am, and order him to come without fail
to the palace to-morrow, after the hour of evening prayer."

So the grand-vizir went back to the bridge; gave the blind beggar
first a piece of money and then a blow, delivered the Caliph's message,
and rejoined his master.

They passed on towards the palace, but walking through a square,
they came upon a crowd watching a young and well-dressed man
who was urging a horse at full speed round the open space,
using at the same time his spurs and whip so unmercifully that
the animal was all covered with foam and blood. The Caliph,
astonished at this proceeding, inquired of a passer-by what it
all meant, but no one could tell him anything, except that every
day at the same hour the same thing took place.

Still wondering, he passed on, and for the moment had to
content himself with telling the vizir to command the horseman
also to appear before him at the same time as the blind man.

The next day, after evening prayer, the Caliph entered the hall,
and was followed by the vizir bringing with him the two men of whom
we have spoken, and a third, with whom we have nothing to do.
They all bowed themselves low before the throne and then the Caliph
bade them rise, and ask the blind man his name.

"Baba-Abdalla, your Highness," said he.

"Baba-Abdalla," returned the Caliph, "your way of asking alms
yesterday seemed to me so strange, that I almost commanded you
then and there to cease from causing such a public scandal.
But I have sent for you to inquire what was your motive in making
such a curious vow. When I know the reason I shall be able to judge
whether you can be permitted to continue to practise it, for I
cannot help thinking that it sets a very bad example to others.
Tell me therefore the whole truth, and conceal nothing."

These words troubled the heart of Baba-Abdalla, who prostrated
himself at the feet of the Caliph. Then rising, he answered:
"Commander of the Faithful, I crave your pardon humbly,
for my persistence in beseeching your Highness to do an action
which appears on the face of it to be without any meaning.
No doubt, in the eyes of men, it has none; but I look on it as a
slight expiation for a fearful sin of which I have been guilty,
and if your Highness will deign to listen to my tale, you will
see that no punishment could atone for the crime."



Story of the Blind Baba-Abdalla


I was born, Commander of the Faithful, in Bagdad, and was left
an orphan while I was yet a very young man, for my parents died
within a few days of each other. I had inherited from them
a small fortune, which I worked hard night and day to increase,
till at last I found myself the owner of eighty camels. These I
hired out to travelling merchants, whom I frequently accompanied
on their various journeys, and always returned with large profits.

One day I was coming back from Balsora, whither I had taken a supply
of goods, intended for India, and halted at noon in a lonely place,
which promised rich pasture for my camels. I was resting in the
shade under a tree, when a dervish, going on foot towards Balsora,
sat down by my side, and I inquired whence he had come and to what
place he was going. We soon made friends, and after we had asked
each other the usual questions, we produced the food we had with us,
and satisfied our hunger.

While we were eating, the dervish happened to mention that in a spot
only a little way off from where we were sitting, there was hidden
a treasure so great that if my eighty camels were loaded till they
could carry no more, the hiding place would seem as full as if it
had never been touched.

At this news I became almost beside myself with joy and greed, and I
flung my arms round the neck of the dervish, exclaiming: "Good dervish,
I see plainly that the riches of this world are nothing to you,
therefore of what use is the knowledge of this treasure to you?
Alone and on foot, you could carry away a mere handful. But tell me
where it is, and I will load my eighty camels with it, and give you
one of them as a token of my gratitude."

Certainly my offer does not sound very magnificent, but it was
great to me, for at his words a wave of covetousness had swept
over my heart, and I almost felt as if the seventy-nine camels
that were left were nothing in comparison.

The dervish saw quite well what was passing in my mind, but he did
not show what he thought of my proposal.

"My brother," he answered quietly, "you know as well as I do,
that you are behaving unjustly. It was open to me to keep my secret,
and to reserve the treasure for myself. But the fact that I have
told you of its existence shows that I had confidence in you,
and that I hoped to earn your gratitude for ever, by making your
fortune as well as mine. But before I reveal to you the secret
of the treasure, you must swear that, after we have loaded the
camels with as much as they can carry, you will give half to me,
and let us go our own ways. I think you will see that this is fair,
for if you present me with forty camels, I on my side will give you
the means of buying a thousand more."

I could not of course deny that what the dervish said was perfectly
reasonable, but, in spite of that, the thought that the dervish
would be as rich as I was unbearable to me. Still there was no
use in discussing the matter, and I had to accept his conditions
or bewail to the end of my life the loss of immense wealth.
So I collected my camels and we set out together under the guidance
of the dervish. After walking some time, we reached what looked
like a valley, but with such a narrow entrance that my camels could
only pass one by one. The little valley, or open space, was shut
up by two mountains, whose sides were formed of straight cliffs,
which no human being could climb.

When we were exactly between these mountains the dervish stopped.

"Make your camels lie down in this open space," he said, "so that we
can easily load them; then we will go to the treasure."

I did what I was bid, and rejoined the dervish, whom I found trying
to kindle a fire out of some dry wood. As soon as it was alight,
he threw on it a handful of perfumes, and pronounced a few words
that I did not understand, and immediately a thick column of smoke
rose high into the air. He separated the smoke into two columns,
and then I saw a rock, which stood like a pillar between the
two mountains, slowly open, and a splendid palace appear within.

But, Commander of the Faithful, the love of gold had taken such
possession of my heart, that I could not even stop to examine
the riches, but fell upon the first pile of gold within my reach
and began to heap it into a sack that I had brought with me.

The dervish likewise set to work, but I soon noticed that he
confined himself to collecting precious stones, and I felt I
should be wise to follow his example. At length the camels
were loaded with as much as they could carry, and nothing
remained but to seal up the treasure, and go our ways.

Before, however, this was done, the dervish went up to a great
golden vase, beautifully chased, and took from it a small wooden box,
which he hid in the bosom of his dress, merely saying that it
contained a special kind of ointment. Then he once more kindled
the fire, threw on the perfume, and murmured the unknown spell,
and the rock closed, and stood whole as before.

The next thing was to divide the camels, and to charge them with
the treasure, after which we each took command of our own and marched
out of the valley, till we reached the place in the high road
where the routes diverge, and then we parted, the dervish going
towards Balsora, and I to Bagdad. We embraced each other tenderly,
and I poured out my gratitude for the honour he had done me,
in singling me out for this great wealth, and having said a hearty
farewell we turned our backs, and hastened after our camels.

I had hardly come up with mine when the demon of envy filled my soul.
"What does a dervish want with riches like that?" I said to myself.
"He alone has the secret of the treasure, and can always get as much
as he wants," and I halted my camels by the roadside, and ran back
after him.

I was a quick runner, and it did not take me very long to come up
with him. "My brother," I exclaimed, as soon as I could speak,
"almost at the moment of our leave-taking, a reflection occurred
to me, which is perhaps new to you. You are a dervish by profession,
and live a very quiet life, only caring to do good, and careless
of the things of this world. You do not realise the burden that you
lay upon yourself, when you gather into your hands such great wealth,
besides the fact that no one, who is not accustomed to camels from
his birth, can ever manage the stubborn beasts. If you are wise,
you will not encumber yourself with more than thirty, and you will find
those trouble enough."

"You are right," replied the dervish, who understood me quite well,
but did not wish to fight the matter. "I confess I had not thought
about it. Choose any ten you like, and drive them before you."

I selected ten of the best camels, and we proceeded along the road,
to rejoin those I had left behind. I had got what I wanted, but I
had found the dervish so easy to deal with, that I rather regretted
I had not asked for ten more. I looked back. He had only gone
a few paces, and I called after him.

"My brother," I said, "I am unwilling to part from you without
pointing out what I think you scarcely grasp, that large experience
of camel-driving is necessary to anybody who intends to keep
together a troop of thirty. In your own interest, I feel sure you
would be much happier if you entrusted ten more of them to me,
for with my practice it is all one to me if I take two or a hundred."

As before, the dervish made no difficulties, and I drove off my ten
camels in triumph, only leaving him with twenty for his share.
I had now sixty, and anyone might have imagined that I should
be content.

But, Commander of the Faithful, there is a proverb that says,
"the more one has, the more one wants." So it was with me.
I could not rest as long as one solitary camel remained to the dervish;
and returning to him I redoubled my prayers and embraces, and promises
of eternal gratitude, till the last twenty were in my hands.

"Make a good use of them, my brother," said the holy man.
"Remember riches sometimes have wings if we keep them for ourselves,
and the poor are at our gates expressly that we may help them."

My eyes were so blinded by gold, that I paid no heed to his wise counsel,
and only looked about for something else to grasp. Suddenly I
remembered the little box of ointment that the dervish had hidden,
and which most likely contained a treasure more precious than all
the rest. Giving him one last embrace, I observed accidentally,
"What are you going to do with that little box of ointment? It seems
hardly worth taking with you; you might as well let me have it.
And really, a dervish who has given up the world has no need
of ointment!"

Oh, if he had only refused my request! But then, supposing he had,
I should have got possession of it by force, so great was the
madness that had laid hold upon me. However, far from refusing it,
the dervish at once held it out, saying gracefully, "Take it,
my friend, and if there is anything else I can do to make you happy
you must let me know."

Directly the box was in my hands I wrenched off the cover.
"As you are so kind," I said, "tell me, I pray you, what are the
virtues of this ointment?"

"They are most curious and interesting," replied the dervish.
"If you apply a little of it to your left eye you will behold
in an instant all the treasures hidden in the bowels of the earth.
But beware lest you touch your right eye with it, or your sight will
be destroyed for ever."

His words excited my curiosity to the highest pitch. "Make trial
on me, I implore you," I cried, holding out the box to the dervish.
"You will know how to do it better than I! I am burning with
impatience to test its charms."

The dervish took the box I had extended to him, and, bidding me
shut my left eye, touched it gently with the ointment. When I
opened it again I saw spread out, as it were before me, treasures of
every kind and without number. But as all this time I had been
obliged to keep my right eye closed, which was very fatiguing,
I begged the dervish to apply the ointment to that eye also.

"If you insist upon it I will do it," answered the dervish,
"but you must remember what I told you just now--that if it touches
your right eye you will become blind on the spot."

Unluckily, in spite of my having proved the truth of the dervish's words
in so many instances, I was firmly convinced that he was now keeping
concealed from me some hidden and precious virtue of the ointment.
So I turned a deaf ear to all he said.

"My brother," I replied smiling, "I see you are joking. It is
not natural that the same ointment should have two such exactly
opposite effects."

"It is true all the same," answered the dervish, "and it would
be well for you if you believed my word."

But I would not believe, and, dazzled by the greed of avarice,
I thought that if one eye could show me riches, the other might
teach me how to get possession of them. And I continued to press
the dervish to anoint my right eye, but this he resolutely declined
to do.

"After having conferred such benefits on you," said he, "I am
loth indeed to work you such evil. Think what it is to be blind,
and do not force me to do what you will repent as long as you live."

It was of no use. "My brother," I said firmly, "pray say no more,
but do what I ask. You have most generously responded to my wishes
up to this time, do not spoil my recollection of you for a thing
of such little consequence. Let what will happen I take it on my
own head, and will never reproach you."

"Since you are determined upon it," he answered with a sigh,
"there is no use talking," and taking the ointment he laid some
on my right eye, which was tight shut. When I tried to open it
heavy clouds of darkness floated before me. I was as blind as you
see me now!

"Miserable dervish!" I shrieked, "so it is true after all!
Into what a bottomless pit has my lust after gold plunged me.
Ah, now that my eyes are closed they are really opened. I know that
all my sufferings are caused by myself alone! But, good brother,
you, who are so kind and charitable, and know the secrets of such
vast learning, have you nothing that will give me back my sight?"

"Unhappy man," replied the dervish, "it is not my fault that this has
befallen you, but it is a just chastisement. The blindness of your
heart has wrought the blindness of your body. Yes, I have secrets;
that you have seen in the short time that we have known each other.
But I have none that will give you back your sight. You have proved
yourself unworthy of the riches that were given you. Now they have
passed into my hands, whence they will flow into the hands of others
less greedy and ungrateful than you."

The dervish said no more and left me, speechless with shame
and confusion, and so wretched that I stood rooted to the spot,
while he collected the eighty camels and proceeded on his way
to Balsora. It was in vain that I entreated him not to leave me,
but at least to take me within reach of the first passing caravan.
He was deaf to my prayers and cries, and I should soon have been dead
of hunger and misery if some merchants had not come along the track
the following day and kindly brought me back to Bagdad.

From a rich man I had in one moment become a beggar; and up to this
time I have lived solely on the alms that have been bestowed on me.
But, in order to expiate the sin of avarice, which was my undoing,
I oblige each passer-by to give me a blow.

This, Commander of the Faithful, is my story.

When the blind man had ended the Caliph addressed him:
"Baba-Abdalla, truly your sin is great, but you have suffered enough.
Henceforth repent in private, for I will see that enough money
is given you day by day for all your wants."

At these words Baba-Abdalla flung himself at the Caliph's feet,
and prayed that honour and happiness might be his portion for ever.



The Story of Sidi-Nouman


The Caliph, Haroun-al-Raschid, was much pleased with the tale of
the blind man and the dervish, and when it was finished he turned
to the young man who had ill-treated his horse, and inquired
his name also. The young man replied that he was called Sidi-Nouman.

"Sidi-Nouman," observed the Caliph, "I have seen horses broken all my
life long, and have even broken them myself, but I have never seen
any horse broken in such a barbarous manner as by you yesterday.
Every one who looked on was indignant, and blamed you loudly.
As for myself, I was so angry that I was very nearly disclosing
who I was, and putting a stop to it at once. Still, you have not
the air of a cruel man, and I would gladly believe that you did not
act in this way without some reason. As I am told that it was not
the first time, and indeed that every day you are to be seen flogging
and spurring your horse, I wish to come to the bottom of the matter.
But tell me the whole truth, and conceal nothing."

Sidi-Nouman changed colour as he heard these words, and his manner
grew confused; but he saw plainly that there was no help for it.
So he prostrated himself before the throne of the Caliph and tried
to obey, but the words stuck in his throat, and he remained silent.

The Caliph, accustomed though he was to instant obedience,
guessed something of what was passing in the young man's mind,
and sought to put him at his ease. "Sidi-Nouman," he said,
"do not think of me as the Caliph, but merely as a friend who would
like to hear your story. If there is anything in it that you are
afraid may offend me, take courage, for I pardon you beforehand.
Speak then openly and without fear, as to one who knows and loves you."

Reassured by the kindness of the Caliph, Sidi-Nouman at length
began his tale.

"Commander of the Faithful," said he, "dazzled though I am
by the lustre of your Highness' presence, I will do my best
to satisfy your wishes. I am by no means perfect, but I am not
naturally cruel, neither do I take pleasure in breaking the law.
I admit that the treatment of my horse is calculated to give your
Highness a bad opinion of me, and to set an evil example to others;
yet I have not chastised it without reason, and I have hopes
that I shall be judged more worthy of pity than punishment."

Commander of the Faithful, I will not trouble to describe my birth;
it is not of sufficient distinction to deserve your Highness'
attention. My ancestors were careful people, and I inherited
enough money to enable me to live comfortably, though without show.

Having therefore a modest fortune, the only thing wanting to my
happiness was a wife who could return my affection, but this blessing
I was not destined to get; for on the very day after my marriage,
my bride began to try my patience in every way that was most hard
to bear.

Now, seeing that the customs of our land oblige us to marry without
ever beholding the person with whom we are to pass our lives,
a man has of course no right to complain as long as his wife
is not absolutely repulsive, or is not positively deformed.
And whatever defects her body may have, pleasant ways and good
behaviour will go far to remedy them.

The first time I saw my wife unveiled, when she had been brought
to my house with the usual ceremonies, I was enchanted to find
that I had not been deceived in regard to the account that had been
given me of her beauty. I began my married life in high spirits,
and the best hopes of happiness.

The following day a grand dinner was served to us but as my wife did
not appear, I ordered a servant to call her. Still she did not come,
and I waited impatiently for some time. At last she entered the room,
and she took our places at the table, and plates of rice were set
before us.

I ate mine, as was natural, with a spoon, but great was my surprise
to notice that my wife, instead of doing the same, drew from her
pocket a little case, from which she selected a long pin, and by
the help of this pin conveyed her rice grain by grain to her mouth.

"Amina," I exclaimed in astonishment, "is that the way you eat rice
at home? And did you do it because your appetite was so small,
or did you wish to count the grains so that you might never eat
more than a certain number? If it was from economy, and you are
anxious to teach me not to be wasteful, you have no cause for alarm.
We shall never ruin ourselves in that way! Our fortune is large
enough for all our needs, therefore, dear Amina, do not seek to
check yourself, but eat as much as you desire, as I do!"

In reply to my affectionate words, I expected a cheerful answer;
yet Amina said nothing at all, but continued to pick her rice
as before, only at longer and longer intervals. And, instead of
trying the other dishes, all she did was to put every now and then
a crumb, of bread into her mouth, that would not have made a meal
for a sparrow.

I felt provoked by her obstinacy, but to excuse her to myself
as far as I could, I suggested that perhaps she had never been
used to eat in the company of men, and that her family might have
taught her that she ought to behave prudently and discreetly
in the presence of her husband. Likewise that she might either
have dined already or intend to do so in her own apartments.
So I took no further notice, and when I had finished left the room,
secretly much vexed at her strange conduct.

The same thing occurred at supper, and all through the next day,
whenever we ate together. It was quite clear that no woman could
live upon two or three bread-crumbs and a few grains of rice,
and I determined to find out how and when she got food. I pretended
not to pay attention to anything she did, in the hope that little
by little she would get accustomed to me, and become more friendly;
but I soon saw that my expectations were quite vain.

One night I was lying with my eyes closed, and to, all appearance
sound asleep, when Amina arose softly, and dressed herself without
making the slightest sound. I could not imagine what she was going
to do, and as my curiosity was great I made up my mind to follow her.
When she was fully dressed, she stole quietly from the room.

The instant she had let the curtain fall behind her, I flung
a garment on my shoulders and a pair of slippers on my feet.
Looking from a lattice which opened into the court, I saw her in
the act of passing through the street door, which she carefully
left open.

It was bright moonlight, so I easily managed to keep her in sight,
till she entered a cemetery not far from the house. There I hid
myself under the shadow of the wall, and crouched down cautiously;
and hardly was I concealed, when I saw my wife approaching in company
with a ghoul--one of those demons which, as your Highness is aware,
wander about the country making their lairs in deserted buildings
and springing out upon unwary travellers whose flesh they eat.
If no live being goes their way, they then betake themselves to
the cemeteries, and feed upon the dead bodies.

I was nearly struck dumb with horror on seeing my wife with this
hideous female ghoul. They passed by me without noticing me,
began to dig up a corpse which had been buried that day, and then
sat down on the edge of the grave, to enjoy their frightful repast,
talking quietly and cheerfully all the while, though I was too far
off to hear what they said. When they had finished, they threw
back the body into the grave, and heaped back the earth upon it.
I made no effort to disturb them, and returned quickly to the house,
when I took care to leave the door open, as I had previously found it.
Then I got back into bed, and pretended to sleep soundly.

A short time after Amina entered as quietly as she had gone out.
She undressed and stole into bed, congratulating herself apparently
on the cleverness with which she had managed her expedition.

As may be guessed, after such a scene it was long before I could
close my eyes, and at the first sound which called the faithful
to prayer, I put on my clothes and went to the mosque. But even
prayer did not restore peace to my troubled spirit, and I could
not face my wife until I had made up my mind what future course
I should pursue in regard to her. I therefore spent the morning
roaming about from one garden to another, turning over various
plans for compelling my wife to give up her horrible ways;
I thought of using violence to make her submit, but felt reluctant
to be unkind to her. Besides, I had an instinct that gentle
means had the best chance of success; so, a little soothed,
I turned towards home, which I reached about the hour of dinner.

As soon as I appeared, Amina ordered dinner to be served, and we
sat down together. As usual, she persisted in only picking a few
grains of rice, and I resolved to speak to her at once of what lay
so heavily on my heart.

"Amina," I said, as quietly as possible, "you must have guessed
the surprise I felt, when the day after our marriage you declined
to eat anything but a few morsels of rice, and altogether behaved
in such a manner that most husbands would have been deeply wounded.
However I had patience with you, and only tried to tempt your appetite
by the choicest dishes I could invent, but all to no purpose.
Still, Amina, it seems to me that there be some among them as sweet
to the taste as the flesh of a corpse?"

I had no sooner uttered these words than Amina, who instantly
understood that I had followed her to the grave-yard, was seized
with a passion beyond any that I have ever witnessed. Her face
became purple, her eyes looked as if they would start from her head,
and she positively foamed with rage.

I watched her with terror, wondering what would happen next,
but little thinking what would be the end of her fury. She seized
a vessel of water that stood at hand, and plunging her hand in it,
murmured some words I failed to catch. Then, sprinkling it on my face,
she cried madly:

"Wretch, receive the reward of your prying, and become a dog."

The words were not out of her mouth when, without feeling conscious
that any change was passing over me, I suddenly knew that I had ceased
to be a man. In the greatness of the shock and surprise--for I had
no idea that Amina was a magician--I never dreamed of running away,
and stood rooted to the spot, while Amina grasped a stick and began
to beat me. Indeed her blows were so heavy, that I only wonder they
did not kill me at once. However they succeeded in rousing me from
my stupor, and I dashed into the court-yard, followed closely by Amina,
who made frantic dives at me, which I was not quick enough to dodge.
At last she got tired of pursuing me, or else a new trick entered
into her head, which would give me speedy and painful death;
she opened the gate leading into the street, intending to crush me
as I passed through. Dog though I was, I saw through her design,
and stung into presence of mind by the greatness of the danger,
I timed my movements so well that I contrived to rush through,
and only the tip of my tail received a squeeze as she banged
the gate.

I was safe, but my tail hurt me horribly, and I yelped and howled so
loud all along the streets, that the other dogs came and attacked me,
which made matters no better. In order to avoid them, I took
refuge in a cookshop, where tongues and sheep's heads were sold.

At first the owner showed me great kindness, and drove away
the other dogs that were still at my heels, while I crept into
the darkest corner. But though I was safe for the moment,
I was not destined to remain long under his protection, for he
was one of those who hold all dogs to be unclean, and that all the
washing in the world will hardly purify you from their contact.
So after my enemies had gone to seek other prey, he tried to
lure me from my corner in order to force me into the street.
But I refused to come out of my hole, and spent the night in sleep,
which I sorely needed, after the pain inflicted on me by Amina.

I have no wish to weary your Highness by dwelling on the sad thoughts
which accompanied my change of shape, but it may interest you to hear
that the next morning my host went out early to do his marketing,
and returned laden with the sheep's heads, and tongues and trotters
that formed his stock in trade for the day. The smell of meat
attracted various hungry dogs in the neighbourhood, and they gathered
round the door begging for some bits. I stole out of my corner,
and stood with them.

In spite of his objection to dogs, as unclean animals, my protector
was a kind-hearted man, and knowing I had eaten nothing since yesterday,
he threw me bigger and better bits than those which fell to the
share of the other dogs. When I had finished, I tried to go back
into the shop, but this he would not allow, and stood so firmly at
the entrance with a stout stick, that I was forced to give it up,
and seek some other home.

A few paces further on was a baker's shop, which seemed to have
a gay and merry man for a master. At that moment he was having
his breakfast, and though I gave no signs of hunger, he at once
threw me a piece of bread. Before gobbling it up, as most dogs
are in the habit of doing, I bowed my head and wagged my tail,
in token of thanks, and he understood, and smiled pleasantly.
I really did not want the bread at all, but felt it would be
ungracious to refuse, so I ate it slowly, in order that he might see
that I only did it out of politeness. He understood this also,
and seemed quite willing to let me stay in his shop, so I sat down,
with my face to the door, to show that I only asked his protection.
This he gave me, and indeed encouraged me to come into the
house itself, giving me a corner where I might sleep, without being
in anybody's way.

The kindness heaped on me by this excellent man was far greater
than I could ever have expected. He was always affectionate
in his manner of treating me, and I shared his breakfast,
dinner and supper, while, on my side, I gave him all the gratitude
and attachment to which he had a right.

I sat with my eyes fixed on him, and he never left the house
without having me at his heels; and if it ever happened that when
he was preparing to go out I was asleep, and did not notice,
he would call "Rufus, Rufus," for that was the name he gave me.

Some weeks passed in this way, when one day a woman came in to buy bread.
In paying for it, she laid down several pieces of money, one of
which was bad. The baker perceived this, and declined to take it,
demanding another in its place. The woman, for her part, refused to
take it back, declaring it was perfectly good, but the baker would
have nothing to do with it. "It is really such a bad imitation,"
he exclaimed at last, "that even my dog would not be taken in.
Here Rufus! Rufus!" and hearing his voice, I jumped on to the counter.
The baker threw down the money before me, and said, "Find out
if there is a bad coin." I looked at each in turn, and then laid
my paw on the false one, glancing at the same time at my master,
so as to point it out.

The baker, who had of course been only in joke, was exceedingly
surprised at my cleverness, and the woman, who was at last convinced
that the man spoke the truth, produced another piece of money
in its place. When she had gone, my master was so pleased that he
told all the neighbours what I had done, and made a great deal
more of it than there really was.

The neighbours, very naturally, declined to believe his story,
and tried me several times with all the bad money they could
collect together, but I never failed to stand the test triumphantly.

Soon, the shop was filled from morning till night, with people
who on the pretence of buying bread came to see if I was as clever
as I was reported to be. The baker drove a roaring trade,
and admitted that I was worth my weight in gold to him.

Of course there were plenty who envied him his large custom,
and many was the pitfall set for me, so that he never dared to let
me out of his sight. One day a woman, who had not been in the
shop before, came to ask for bread, like the rest. As usual,
I was lying on the counter, and she threw down six coins before me,
one of which was false. I detected it at once, and put my paw on it,
looking as I did so at the woman. "Yes," she said, nodding her head.
"You are quite right, that is the one." She stood gazing at me
attentively for some time, then paid for the bread, and left the shop,
making a sign for me to follow her secretly.

Now my thoughts were always running on some means of shaking off
the spell laid on me, and noticing the way in which this woman
had looked at me, the idea entered my head that perhaps she might
have guessed what had happened, and in this I was not deceived.
However I let her go on a little way, and merely stood at the door
watching her. She turned, and seeing that I was quite still,
she again beckoned to me.

The baker all this while was busy with his oven, and had forgotten
all about me, so I stole out softly, and ran after the woman.

When we came to her house, which was some distance off, she opened
the door and then said to me, "Come in, come in; you will never be
sorry that you followed me." When I had entered she fastened the door,
and took me into a large room, where a beautiful girl was working
at a piece of embroidery. "My daughter," exclaimed my guide,
"I have brought you the famous dog belonging to the baker which can
tell good money from bad. You know that when I first heard of him,
I told you I was sure he must be really a man, changed into a dog
by magic. To-day I went to the baker's, to prove for myself
the truth of the story, and persuaded the dog to follow me here.
Now what do you say?"

"You are right, mother," replied the girl, and rising she dipped her
hand into a vessel of water. Then sprinkling it over me she said,
"If you were born dog, remain dog; but if you were born man,
by virtue of this water resume your proper form." In one moment the
spell was broken. The dog's shape vanished as if it had never been,
and it was a man who stood before her.

Overcome with gratitude at my deliverance, I flung myself at
her feet, and kissed the hem of her garment. "How can I thank you
for your goodness towards a stranger, and for what you have done?
Henceforth I am your slave. Deal with me as you will!"

Then, in order to explain how I came to be changed into a dog,
I told her my whole story, and finished with rendering the mother
the thanks due to her for the happiness she had brought me.

"Sidi-Nouman," returned the daughter, "say no more about the
obligation you are under to us. The knowledge that we have been
of service to you is ample payment. Let us speak of Amina, your wife,
with whom I was acquainted before her marriage. I was aware that she
was a magician, and she knew too that I had studied the same art,
under the same mistress. We met often going to the same baths,
but we did not like each other, and never sought to become friends.
As to what concerns you, it is not enough to have broken your spell,
she must be punished for her wickedness. Remain for a moment with
my mother, I beg," she added hastily, "I will return shortly."

Left alone with the mother, I again expressed the gratitude I felt,
to her as well as to her daughter.

"My daughter," she answered, "is, as you see, as accomplished a magician
as Amina herself, but you would be astonished at the amount of good
she does by her knowledge. That is why I have never interfered,
otherwise I should have put a stop to it long ago." As she spoke,
her daughter entered with a small bottle in her hand.

"Sidi-Nouman," she said, "the books I have just consulted tell
me that Amina is not home at present, but she should return at
any moment. I have likewise found out by their means, that she
pretends before the servants great uneasiness as to your absence.
She has circulated a story that, while at dinner with her,
you remembered some important business that had to be done at once,
and left the house without shutting the door. By this means a dog
had strayed in, which she was forced to get rid of by a stick.
Go home then without delay, and await Amina's return in your room.
When she comes in, go down to meet her, and in her surprise, she will
try to run away. Then have this bottle ready, and dash the water it
contains over her, saying boldly, "Receive the reward of your crimes."
That is all I have to tell you."

Everything happened exactly as the young magician had foretold.
I had not been in my house many minutes before Amina returned, and as
she approached I stepped in front of her, with the water in my hand.
She gave one loud cry, and turned to the door, but she was too late.
I had already dashed the water in her face and spoken the magic words.
Amina disappeared, and in her place stood the horse you saw me
beating yesterday.

This, Commander of the Faithful, is my story, and may I venture
to hope that, now you have heard the reason of my conduct,
your Highness will not think this wicked woman too harshly treated?

"Sidi-Nouman," replied the Caliph, "your story is indeed a strange one,
and there is no excuse to be offered for your wife. But, without
condemning your treatment of her, I wish you to reflect how much
she must suffer from being changed into an animal, and I hope you
will let that punishment be enough. I do not order you to insist
upon the young magician finding the means to restore your wife to her
human shape, because I know that when once women such as she begin
to work evil they never leave off, and I should only bring down on
your head a vengeance far worse than the one you have undergone already."



Story of Ali Colia, Merchant of Bagdad


In the reign of Haroun-al-Raschid, there lived in Bagdad a
merchant named Ali Cogia, who, having neither wife nor child,
contented himself with the modest profits produced by his trade.
He had spent some years quite happily in the house his father had
left him, when three nights running he dreamed that an old man had
appeared to him, and reproached him for having neglected the duty
of a good Mussulman, in delaying so long his pilgrimage to Mecca.

Ali Cogia was much troubled by this dream, as he was unwilling
to give up his shop, and lose all his customers. He had shut his
eyes for some time to the necessity of performing this pilgrimage,
and tried to atone to his conscience by an extra number of good works,
but the dream seemed to him a direct warning, and he resolved to put
the journey off no longer.

The first thing he did was to sell his furniture and the wares
he had in his shop, only reserving to himself such goods as he
might trade with on the road. The shop itself he sold also,
and easily found a tenant for his private house. The only matter he
could not settle satisfactorily was the safe custody of a thousand
pieces of gold which he wished to leave behind him.

After some thought, Ali Cogia hit upon a plan which seemed a safe one.
He took a large vase, and placing the money in the bottom of it,
filled up the rest with olives. After corking the vase tightly down,
he carried it to one of his friends, a merchant like himself,
and said to him:

"My brother, you have probably heard that I am staffing with a caravan
in a few days for Mecca. I have come to ask whether you would
do me the favour to keep this vase of olives for me till I come back?"

The merchant replied readily, "Look, this is the key of my shop:
take it, and put the vase wherever you like. I promise that you shall
find it in the same place on your return."

A few days later, Ali Cogia mounted the camel that he had laden
with merchandise, joined the caravan, and arrived in due time
at Mecca. Like the other pilgrims he visited the sacred Mosque,
and after all his religious duties were performed, he set out his
goods to the best advantage, hoping to gain some customers among
the passers-by.

Very soon two merchants stopped before the pile, and when they
had turned it over, one said to the other:

"If this man was wise he would take these things to Cairo, where he
would get a much better price than he is likely to do here."

Ali Cogia heard the words, and lost no time in following the advice.
He packed up his wares, and instead of returning to Bagdad,
joined a caravan that was going to Cairo. The results of the journey
gladdened his heart. He sold off everything almost directly,
and bought a stock of Egyptian curiosities, which he intended selling
at Damascus; but as the caravan with which he would have to travel
would not be starting for another six weeks, he took advantage
of the delay to visit the Pyramids, and some of the cities along
the banks of the Nile.

Now the attractions of Damascus so fascinated the worthy Ali,
that he could hardly tear himself away, but at length he remembered
that he had a home in Bagdad, meaning to return by way of Aleppo,
and after he had crossed the Euphrates, to follow the course of
the Tigris.

But when he reached Mossoul, Ali had made such friends with some
Persian merchants, that they persuaded him to accompany them
to their native land, and even as far as India, and so it came
to pass that seven years had slipped by since he had left Bagdad,
and during all that time the friend with whom he had left the vase
of olives had never once thought of him or of it. In fact,
it was only a month before Ali Cogia's actual return that the affair
came into his head at all, owing to his wife's remarking one day,
that it was a long time since she had eaten any olives, and would
like some.

"That reminds me," said the husband, "that before Ali Cogia went
to Mecca seven years ago, he left a vase of olives in my care.
But really by this time he must be dead, and there is no reason we
should not eat the olives if we like. Give me a light, and I will
fetch them and see how they taste."

"My husband," answered the wife, "beware, I pray, of your doing
anything so base! Supposing seven years have passed without news
of Ali Cogia, he need not be dead for all that, and may come back
any day. How shameful it would be to have to confess that you
had betrayed your trust and broken the seal of the vase! Pay no
attention to my idle words, I really have no desire for olives now.
And probably after all this while they are no longer good.
I have a presentiment that Ali Cogia will return, and what will he
think of you? Give it up, I entreat."

The merchant, however, refused to listen to her advice, sensible
though it was. He took a light and a dish and went into his shop.

"If you will be so obstinate," said his wife, "I cannot help it;
but do not blame me if it turns out ill."

When the merchant opened the vase he found the topmost olives
were rotten, and in order to see if the under ones were in better
condition he shook some out into the dish. As they fell out a few
of the gold pieces fell out too.

The sight of the money roused all the merchant's greed. He looked
into the vase, and saw that all the bottom was filled with gold.
He then replaced the olives and returned to his wife.

"My wife," he said, as he entered the room, "you were quite right;
the olives are rotten, and I have recorked the vase so well that Ali
Cogia will never know it has been touched."

"You would have done better to believe me," replied the wife.
"I trust that no harm will come of it."

These words made no more impression on the merchant than the others
had done; and he spent the whole night in wondering how he could manage
to keep the gold if Ali Cogia should come back and claim his vase.
Very early next morning he went out and bought fresh new olives;
he then threw away the old ones, took out the gold and hid it,
and filled up the vase with the olives he had bought. This done he
recorked the vase and put it in the same place where it had been left
by Ali Cogia.

A month later Ali Cogia re-entered Bagdad, and as his house was
still let he went to an inn; and the following day set out to see
his friend the merchant, who received him with open arms and many
expressions of surprise. After a few moments given to inquiries
Ali Cogia begged the merchant to hand him over the vase that he
had taken care of for so long.

"Oh certainly," said he, "I am only glad I could be of use to you
in the matter. Here is the key of my shop; you will find the vase
in the place where you put it."

Ali Cogia fetched his vase and carried it to his room at the inn,
where he opened it. He thrust down his hand but could feel no money,
but still was persuaded it must be there. So he got some plates
and vessels from his travelling kit and emptied out the olives.
To no purpose. The gold was not there. The poor man was dumb
with horror, then, lifting up his hands, he exclaimed, "Can my old
friend really have committed such a crime?"

In great haste he went back to the house of the merchant. "My friend,"
he cried, "you will be astonished to see me again, but I can find
nowhere in this vase a thousand pieces of gold that I placed in the
bottom under the olives. Perhaps you may have taken a loan of them
for your business purposes; if that is so you are most welcome.
I will only ask you to give me a receipt, and you can pay the money
at your leisure."

The merchant, who had expected something of the sort, had his reply
all ready. "Ali Cogia," he said, "when you brought me the vase
of olives did I ever touch it?"

"I gave you the key of my shop and you put it yourself where you liked,
and did you not find it in exactly the same spot and in the
same state? If you placed any gold in it, it must be there still.
I know nothing about that; you only told me there were olives.
You can believe me or not, but I have not laid a finger on the vase."

Ali Cogia still tried every means to persuade the merchant to admit
the truth. "I love peace," he said, "and shall deeply regret having
to resort to harsh measures. Once more, think of your reputation.
I shall be in despair if you oblige me to call in the aid of the law."

"Ali Cogia," answered the merchant, "you allow that it was a vase
of olives you placed in my charge. You fetched it and removed
it yourself, and now you tell me it contained a thousand pieces
of gold, and that I must restore them to you! Did you ever say
anything about them before? Why, I did not even know that the
vase had olives in it! You never showed them to me. I wonder
you have not demanded pearls or diamonds. Retire, I pray you,
lest a crowd should gather in front of my shop."

By this time not only the casual passers-by, but also the
neighbouring merchants, were standing round, listening to the dispute,
and trying every now and then to smooth matters between them.
But at the merchant's last words Ali Cogia resolved to lay the
cause of the quarrel before them, and told them the whole story.
They heard him to the end, and inquired of the merchant what he
had to say.

The accused man admitted that he had kept Ali Cogia's vase in his shop;
but he denied having touched it, and swore that as to what it
contained he only knew what Ali Cogia had told him, and called
them all to witness the insult that had been put upon him.

"You have brought it on yourself," said Ali Cogia, taking him
by the arm, "and as you appeal to the law, the law you shall have!
Let us see if you will dare to repeat your story before the Cadi."

Now as a good Mussulman the merchant was forbidden to refuse this
choice of a judge, so he accepted the test, and said to Ali Cogia,
"Very well; I should like nothing better. We shall soon see which
of us is in the right."

So the two men presented themselves before the Cadi, and Ali Cogia
again repeated his tale. The Cadi asked what witnesses he had.
Ali Cogia replied that he had not taken this precaution, as he had
considered the man his friend, and up to that time had always found
him honest.

The merchant, on his side, stuck to his story, and offered to swear
solemnly that not only had he never stolen the thousand gold pieces,
but that he did not even know they were there. The Cadi allowed him
to take the oath, and pronounced him innocent.

Ali Cogia, furious at having to suffer such a loss, protested against
the verdict, declaring that he would appeal to the Caliph,
Haroun-al-Raschid, himself. But the Cadi paid no attention
to his threats, and was quite satisfied that he had done what was right.

Judgment being given the merchant returned home triumphant, and Ali
Cogia went back to his inn to draw up a petition to the Caliph.
The next morning he placed himself on the road along which the Caliph
must pass after mid-day prayer, and stretched out his petition to the
officer who walked before the Caliph, whose duty it was to collect
such things, and on entering the palace to hand them to his master.
There Haroun-al-Raschid studied them carefully.

Knowing this custom, Ali Cogia followed the Caliph into the public
hall of the palace, and waited the result. After some time the
officer appeared, and told him that the Caliph had read his petition,
and had appointed an hour the next morning to give him audience.
He then inquired the merchant's address, so that he might be summoned
to attend also.

That very evening, the Caliph, with his grand-vizir Giafar, and Mesrour,
chief of the eunuchs, all three disguised, as was their habit,
went out to take a stroll through the town.

Going down one street, the Caliph's attention was attracted
by a noise, and looking through a door which opened into a court
he perceived ten or twelve children playing in the moonlight.
He hid himself in a dark corner, and watched them.

"Let us play at being the Cadi," said the brightest and quickest
of them all; "I will be the Cadi. Bring before me Ali Cogia,
and the merchant who robbed him of the thousand pieces of gold."

The boy's words recalled to the Caliph the petition he had read
that morning, and he waited with interest to see what the children
would do.

The proposal was hailed with joy by the other children, who had heard
a great deal of talk about the matter, and they quickly settled
the part each one was to play. The Cadi took his seat gravely,
and an officer introduced first Ali Cogia, the plaintiff, and then
the merchant who was the defendant.

Ali Cogia made a low bow, and pleaded his cause point by point;
concluding by imploring the Cadi not to inflict on him such a
heavy loss.

The Cadi having heard his case, turned to the merchant, and inquired
why he had not repaid Ali Cogia the sum in question.

The false merchant repeated the reasons that the real merchant
had given to the Cadi of Bagdad, and also offered to swear that he
had told the truth.

"Stop a moment!" said the little Cadi, "before we come to oaths,
I should like to examine the vase with the olives. Ali Cogia,"
he added, "have you got the vase with you?" and finding he had not,
the Cadi continued, "Go and get it, and bring it to me."

So Ali Cogia disappeared for an instant, and then pretended
to lay a vase at the feet of the Cadi, declaring it was his vase,
which he had given to the accused for safe custody; and in order
to be quite correct, the Cadi asked the merchant if he recognised it
as the same vase. By his silence the merchant admitted the fact,
and the Cadi then commanded to have the vase opened. Ali Cogia
made a movement as if he was taking off the lid, and the little
Cadi on his part made a pretence of peering into a vase.

"What beautiful olives!" he said, "I should like to taste one,"
and pretending to put one in his mouth, he added, "they are
really excellent!

"But," he went on, "it seems to me odd that olives seven years
old should be as good as that! Send for some dealers in olives,
and let us hear what they say!"

Two children were presented to him as olive merchants, and the Cadi
addressed them. "Tell me," he said, "how long can olives be kept
so as to be pleasant eating?"

"My lord," replied the merchants, "however much care is taken
to preserve them, they never last beyond the third year. They lose
both taste and colour, and are only fit to be thrown away."

"If that is so," answered the little Cadi, "examine this vase,
and tell me how long the olives have been in it."

The olive merchants pretended to examine the olives and taste them;
then reported to the Cadi that they were fresh and good.

"You are mistaken," said he, "Ali Cogia declares he put them
in that vase seven years ago."

"My lord," returned the olive merchants, "we can assure you that
the olives are those of the present year. And if you consult all
the merchants in Bagdad you will not find one to give a contrary opinion."

The accused merchant opened his mouth as if to protest, but the
Cadi gave him no time. "Be silent," he said, "you are a thief.
Take him away and hang him." So the game ended, the children
clapping their hands in applause, and leading the criminal away
to be hanged.

Haroun-al-Raschid was lost in astonishment at the wisdom of the child,
who had given so wise a verdict on the case which he himself was

_________________
The Flesh of Fallen Angels! Come to me all! Asteroth,

Beelzebub, Asmodeus, Bapholada, Lucifer, Loki, Satan,

Cthulhu, Lilith, Della! Blood, to you all!

I'm the wolf, yeah!
I am the wolf! It's close, it's coming. You have come.
The witness to the end, of time. It's now! I will rise to
her side! I don't need the words!
I'm beyond the words!
Image

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Wed Feb 20, 2013 6:36 pm
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Orange Juice Jones wrote:
The Dream Quest
of Unknown Kadath
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wow I almost kind of wanted to read some of that bullshit, but then it took me forever to scroll past it.

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Fri Feb 22, 2013 8:15 pm
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It is a great story by H.P Lovecraft you peasant

_________________
The Flesh of Fallen Angels! Come to me all! Asteroth,

Beelzebub, Asmodeus, Bapholada, Lucifer, Loki, Satan,

Cthulhu, Lilith, Della! Blood, to you all!

I'm the wolf, yeah!
I am the wolf! It's close, it's coming. You have come.
The witness to the end, of time. It's now! I will rise to
her side! I don't need the words!
I'm beyond the words!
Image

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Sun Feb 24, 2013 1:58 am
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WELL I GOT THROUGH THE FIRST TWO PARAGRAPHS AND GOT CROSS EYED FROM TOO MUCH WHITE

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Sun Feb 24, 2013 11:58 pm
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I stopped reading at User control panel

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Mon Feb 25, 2013 8:16 am
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